


Too Close

by crystalkuria



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Denial of Feelings, Florist!Hinata, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, M/M, Punk!Kageyama, Tattoo Artist!Kageyama, Trust, all of the teams are gangs and hinata is only a small bird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkuria/pseuds/crystalkuria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata has been content with his routine of a life for a while now.</p><p>But who knew that one party could change everything?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leave Before the Lights Come On

**Author's Note:**

> there are tons of loud fireworks going on outside and its honestly really scary....

A dubstep song is piercing Hinata’s ears, the beat thumping against the walls of the house and making him wince. He reluctantly follows his friends past the door-frame and into the chaos. As expected, the place is pretty crowded - people dancing, people drinking, people smoking. The smells of cigarettes and beer and that loud music makes Hinata feel slightly sick, his stomach doing little flips. 

He tries to make himself as small as possible, which is really against his nature, but this place is undeniably intimidating, and for once, he just wants to blend in. His friends don’t even stop to see if he’s still following them, but Hinata keeps trailing after them until they stop at the home bar. A tall guy is behind it, taking orders and quickly dishing them out.

Hinata takes a seat on one of the barstools, shoving his fists into the pocket of his hoodie, and glances around cautiously. The place is pretty dim, but there are the strobe lights that occasionally flash around, making Hinata’s hand fly up to shield his eyes. There are people already making out and shamelessly grinding in what you’d call the living room.

While observing his surroundings, Hinata casually eavesdrops into a conversation - one between one of his friends and the makeshift bartender.

“He always brings the prettiest women, you know? And I haven’t gotten laid in fucking _months._ ”

The bartender laughs in response, and Hinata sneaks a glance to find him turning away from his friend to take a brief order. He reaches over, grabbing a bottle of pepsi before sliding it across the counter towards the customer, and then turns back around.

“He doesn’t have any sense of timing, so he’ll be late,” he replies.

“And yeah, I hear that he’s bringing a new group of girls.”

Hinata doesn’t want to hear anymore.

He swivels his stool around to face the bartender, and waits until the guy’s served another customer before waving him over. He quietly asks for a bottle of water, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely heard over the pounding music. The bartender has to strain to hear him, but can make out the way Hinata’s lips move to form the word ‘water’, and soon he’s whipping back around to retrieve the product from the fridge.

Hinata waits a few moments, fingertips drumming on the counter’s surface. He watches as the bartender fishes throughout the fridge, pulling open drawers and pushing other contents out of the way. He does this a couple of times, and even though he’s got his back turned to everyone, Hinata can just _barely_ see the exasperated expression on the guy’s face.

The bartender turns back to Hinata, shaking his head and mouth an ‘all out’. Hinata nods in response, but the guy’s already turned away. The persimmon-haired male sighs, swivelling away from the bar and turning to face the party.

He’d wanted a water to soothe his dry throat and sudden anxiety, but he decided quickly that he’d just have to deal. 

The party’s gotten worse, if that’s the word for it.

It’s alive, and another song’s blasting - Hinata groans inwardly when he recognizes the beat as the one from Flo Rida’s _Whistle._ There’s a guy at the door, greeting more people as they fill in. He’s tall, maybe a little taller than the bartender, with short blonde hair and annoyed eyes behind dark glasses. He takes the partygoers’ hands, shaking them briefly with a frown before repeating the process. 

Hinata watches, bored with the sight of the blonde already, and turns his attention to a nearby window. The sky’s dark outside, ghostly white clouds drifting across the dark indigo canvas. The night had been humid and almost uncomfortable, and the atmosphere was the signal for parties. 

Hinata had never been one for parties. He’d rather stay at home by himself, although he did enjoy going out with his friends. So when a few of said friends had told him that they’d been invited to a party, and that they had been told to invite as many people as possible, he’d agreed - he didn’t really have anything to do, and a question entered his mind.

_Why not?_

But now, as ironic as it is, Hinata’s beginning to regret his decision.

And yeah, he’d been to parties before.

Not the wild, fist-pumping, heart-pounding and ‘i’m-gonna-get-drunk-out-of-my-mind-and-make-out-with-a-stranger’ parties. He’d been to bookstore signings and weddings, welcome-home’s and graduations. Those were all calm parties, the type where you wander around, smile at people and greet them casually. The type of parties where nothing sets you on edge, and like mentioned before, it’s _calm._

This was the type of party that was setting Hinata on edge.

His legs were stiff, sort of trembling - that always happened when his anxiety kicked in - and he was glancing around nervously, trying to drink in everything at once. He was trying to take deep breaths, trying to slowly calm himself down. He jumps slightly when a sharp finger prods at his forearm, and he turns to face the friend who had been talking with the bartender before.

“There’ll be a lot of girls here,” he comments.

“You planning on getting fucked tonight?”

Hinata’s face heats up, but he forces a shrug of his shoulders. He wants to bravely point out that he doesn’t hold any attraction to girls, but that would only result in name-calling. Discrimination was somehow disgustingly common in this city, and Hinata had heard that many people had gotten hurt over who they were. If he said he was afraid of telling anyone, he would be telling the truth, so he keeps to himself.

But it sort of hurts to have to join in his the harsh antics of his friends, even if he knows they mean well.

His friend chuckles at his lack of an answer, shouldering him before lifting a finger, and pointing in the direction of the party.

From where Hinata’s looking, his friend’s finger is pointing directly to a girl, who’s rocking her hips back and forth. He doesn’t find the movement hot, he doesn’t want to do anything with her, and he _definitely_ wants his friend to just drop it. 

But of course, he doesn’t. 

He lips pull into a smirk, and he flashes a wolfish smile at Hinata, raising an eyebrow.

“You wanna play a game?”

It takes a moment for Hinata to register that he’s still being talked to, but he snaps up, mind racing.

“Sure,” he lies.

He knows where this is going.

He doesn’t like it.

“The rules are, that you have to pick up a chick using a pick up line, you know - get her number. Unless you’re a fag, and you wanna pick up a guy, huh?”

Hinata swallows thickly, his heart clenching in his chest at that _word._

He shakes his head, the regret already sinking in, because he wants to speak up for himself, but he just _can’t._ His friend nods his head as if Hinata not being into guys is a _good_ thing, and goes back to speaking. Hinata doesn’t want to hear anymore, but he still listens.

“Alright, so whoever gets ten girls first wins. I’ll buy you whatever you want, like that book you were talking about last week. And if I win, you gotta buy me a lap dance.”

Hinata nods this time, sucking in a deep breath as his friend adds that he should go first.

So Hinata complies.

He hops off of his barstool, his shoes hitting the floor with a soft thud. There’s an intermission between songs, but some people are still grinding in the livingroom to an unknown rhythm. Hinata mentally scoffs at the sight, but forces his gaze away as he makes his towards the girl that had been pointed out. 

She’s still moving her hips, and Hinata feels his face heat up because this is stupid and he should know better than to oblige to something like this - he should be able to trust his friends, but right now something doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s right behind her, before carefully tapping on her back.

She whips around to face him, having to look down slightly because she’s taller, and the height difference makes Hinata feel like one of those munchkins from the Wizard of Oz or whatever. But he bravely looks up, taking in a shaky breath, and is just about to speak before the girl beats him to it.

“I don’t do midgets,” she says calmly.

Her hips have stopped moving and she’s standing perfectly still. Her words make Hinata’s face heat up, and he begins mumbling out an apology, but then she gives a gentle smile. Her left hand is clutching a beer can, and she lifts it up to her lips to take a sip.

“I’m kidding, but I’m gay.”

“Me too,” Hinata smiles back, finally calming down.

“So who sent you over here?,” she asks after a moment.

“A friend,” Hinata sighs.

“He, um- I was supposed to get your number, but, yeah.”

She laughs, leaning against a nearby wall and taking another sip of her beer.

“Well, good luck tonight,” she adds.

He considers replying with a ‘you too’, but stops himself short, and instead nods in response. He takes her words as a sign to leave, and slowly begins making his way away from her and back towards the bar. But as soon as he’s in close range - he’d been looking at the floor part of the time, and barely looked up, only doing that to make sure he was going the right way - he realizes that his friend is gone.

He stands up straight, suddenly aware. He glances around quickly, trying to spot his friend anywhere, and feels panic wash over him when he notices that all of his other friends are gone, too. Hinata’s frozen to the ground, his heart pounding in his ears and making the blasting music at least ten times louder. He swallows harshly, forcing himself to keep moving.

He pushes past people, too many people, grinding and kissing and making out, the scent of alcohol and tobacco making his eyes water. He covers his nose, desperately attempting to make his way through the thick crowd. It’s like an ocean, threatening to take him down under and trap him there, and soon he’s gasping for air. He’s half-searching for his friends, and half-searching for a way out.

He inhales sharply when a topless girl juts her body out, almost knocking him over. Rough hands shove him out of the way and all around, and he’s stumbling, his breath hitching when he loses his balance. He trips, the fact that he’s going to fall finally registering in his mind, and his stomach clenches and there’s nothing that he can do.

His arms fly up as a reflex to attempt to catch himself, but he doesn’t meet the floor.

He crashes into a tall guy, fingers curled tightly into the fabric of the guy’s shirt, face slamming into the guy’s clothed chest. Hinata lets out a choked yelp when this happens, his legs almost giving out from under him as he quickly tries to recover. He’s sort of grateful - the guy’s wearing a coat, which blocks out the loud music, and his tall frame makes Hinata feel sort of safe.

But then the guy shoves him away harshly, like everyone else, and Hinata is stumbling back again.

He manages to get a glimpse of the guy before he actually falls backwards. He is tall, with dark hair that frames his face, and menacing, cold eyes. A cigarette’s balanced between his pale lips, and he sends a sharp glare Hinata’s way before turning around and walking away. Hinata’s left to jump up and away from the risk of getting trampled by feet. One he stands up and briefly brushes himself off, he attempts to peer past the crowd, watching as the guy he’d run into walks away. 

Hinata then begins pushing past the crowd once again, forcing his way more desperately past the people, still flustered and slightly nervous. He’s following the guy now, feeling like he’s doing something absolutely terrible, but he doesn’t stop. 

His heart leaps into his throat when the crowd begins blocking him from his path, the guy fading farther and farther away from his vision. Soon Hinata can no longer see him, and is left standing in the middle of the crowd, dark eyes wide and almost owlish.


	2. Only if for a Night

By the time Hinata actually makes it out of the sea of people, his chest is heaving, and he’s crouched over. His open palms are resting on the crests of his knees, his eyes locked on the floor under his feet. He’d finally put distance between himself and the crowd, and wanted to shout in triumph, but he wasn’t exactly excited. 

The guy’s face had somehow gotten frozen in Hinata’s mind, and he couldn’t get it out. The guy wasn’t terrifying, just a little intimidating, but still - the way he had looked at Hinata like he was the lowest, most pathetic human. Like he was better than Hinata; like he was some _king._ Hinata blames his intimidation on their height differences, although deep down, he knows that there’s an entirely different reason. And even though he has no idea what that _reason_ was, he just knows that it’s there.

“ _Hinata,_ ” someone calls out.

Hinata hears it over the music, the sudden voice startling him, and he whips around to look for the source of the sound. At first, he doesn’t recognize anyone or see anything. But then as he squints, making an attempt to see through the dimness of the room, he spots someone he’d never thought he’d see at a party like this.

The person’s waving him over, smiling wide.

He weaves his way to the male in question, the guy from before slowly slipping from his mind.

“Suga,” Hinata greets him with a smile.

The silver-haired male smiles in response, lifting a thick eyebrow before reaching into his messenger bag. Suga’s sat at a table at the very back of the house, along with a few of his own friends who are in a seemingly deep conversation. They’re throwing their hands up for emphasis, voices growing louder when they reach heated topics, and Hinata’s wondering how easy it is to talk to someone like that.

Suga retrieves a water bottle, and Hinata’s eyes light up.

“I figured you’d want one,” Suga offers, handing the other male the bottle.

Hinata takes it gratefully, his smile widening. He uncaps it while Suga continues talking, tipping his head back and letting the cool liquid soothe his throat. 

“You’re here alone?”

“No,” Hinata replies.

He quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, twisting the cap back on and setting it onto the floor. He slides his hands into the pockets of his pants, resting his head against the hard surface of the wall behind him, and continues.

“My friends- I don’t know where they went.”

Suga hums in response, gently grabbing the water bottle when Hinata slides it across the table to him. He then places it back into his messenger bag, parting his lips to speak again.

“I’ll help you look for them, if you want.”

“Don’t worry,” Hinata tells him.

“I’ll find them.”

After exchanging smiley goodbyes, Hinata begins making his way through the crowd again. By now - in the short period of time that he’s spent at the party - he’s sort of become used to it, but that doesn’t mean that he likes it. 

He pushes his way to the opposite side of the room, and when he looks back, Suga’s already involved in a conversation with his friends. Hinata sighs, inwardly telling himself to keep moving. After all, if he doesn’t find his friends, he’ll be either forced to stay here until the party clears out, or worse - he’ll have to walk home.

And it wouldn’t be a bad thing to walk home at night if there weren’t notorious thieves and bitter gangs lurking in the shadows, eyes on fire as they assess your worth. Hinata had never met any thieves or gangs, thank god. The criminals always tended to come out at night, which was part of the reason why Hinata had a slight fear of the dark.

He just needed to find his friends.

As he finally nears the other side of the room, he comes to a staircase. It’s long, and stretches upwards to meet the upstairs of the house, and if there’s one thing that Hinata knows, it’s that this is a bad idea. He shouldn’t go looking through a stranger’s house - whose house is this, anyway? - but he’s getting a little more afraid with each passing second, and desperation is urging him on.

So he climbs the steps quickly, relief washing over him as he puts more distance between himself and the raging party. 

Before he’s at the top of the stairs, facing a good-sized hallway. He sucks in a deep breath, before moving to knock on the first door. It’s on his left, and it’s quiet, so he presses his ear flat against it. But then he hears faint moans, and pulls away quickly, slightly disgusted. He moves to the next few doors, doing the same thing and getting the same results.

It’s gross really, and Hinata will never get why people do _that_ in a house that’s not their own. But he pushes the thought away, puffing his cheeks out in simple disappointment - he’d wanted to check upstairs for his friends first, but maybe that was just an excuse to get away from the party (it definitely was) - when he nears the last room in the hallway.

He cautiously places his ear against it, hoping for the best.

There’s the moans again, more high-pitched and fake and _obviously_ a female’s, but the moment Hinata thinks about giving up and just going to the nearby bathroom and locking himself in there, he hears two of his friends’ familiar voices.

“ _Fuck,_ Kanami, just like that,” someone says quietly, and that’s definitely one of Hinata’s friends.

Something is thrown at the wall inside of the room, a crash making Hinata jump away from the door with wide eyes. His heart pounds in his ears, threatening to shatter from fear any second, and then there’s a shout.

“You _said_ you would have it,” and Hinata recognizes the voice as the same friend who had dared him with that game.

“I _know_ what I said, just, fuck-”

“You told me that you would have it, so where the _hell_ is it?!”

This time, the door flies open, slamming against the wall harshly, and Hinata almost jumps out of his skin.

The guy from before is standing in the doorway, his back turned to Hinata so the smaller male can see the logo on the back of his coat. _Karasuno_ in large white letters, very visible to read, and Hinata shivers when the name registers in his mind.

But he’s got no time to think when the guy barks out an insult, and Hinata’s friend dryly laughs back. But he stops midway when he sees Hinata behind the guy, cowering in slight fear. Hinata has no goddamn clue what’s happening, but he’s sure that he doesn’t want to be apart of it. 

The guy turns to face him, his dark eyes widening slightly when they recognize Hinata as the same fucker who’d run right into him. His eyes flicker between Hinata’s friend and Hinata himself, and then he gets it.

He wraps tight fingers around the shorter male’s wrist, eyes hardened into a glare as he yanks Hinata away from the scene. Hinata can’t protest, as his voice catches in his throat, and once again he’s stumbling along. Trying to keep up, trying not to trip on the stairs, and then trying not to run into people as the guy literally parts the entire fucking crowd with only the sound of his feet against the floor, and his angry eyes.

Before Hinata knows it, he’s being pulled out of the house and into the outside’s darkness, the only light from the streetlights. The guy keeps pulling him forward until they stop at a parked motorcycle, and Hinata can hear the yells of his friend and a few other people coming closer and closer, but he doesn’t have any time to look back before he’s jerked onto the bike.

The guy finally lets go of his wrist to fit his own hands onto the handlebars, the bike suddenly rumbling loudly and piercing Hinata’s ears louder than the music had. The sound drowns out the shouts of Hinata’s friends, the vibrations sending chills up the shorter male’s body.

“Hold on,” the guy mutters.

They begin to move, and Hinata’s arms instantly fly around the guy’s body against his own will. He holds onto the guy for dear life, hiding his face from the whipping wind as they speed up, moving too fast, and Hinata can feel everything - he’s never even set foot near a motorcycle - clenching his eyes shut and wondering why the hell he even agreed to go to the party.

***

The motorcycle gradually slows down, but Hinata stays cautious. He doesn’t look up until the bike pulls to a complete stop, and even after that, he waits a few seconds to make sure. Then, finally, he looks up. 

They’re in front of an apartment complex, pulled into one of those carports. When Hinata finally settles back into the real world - his breath evening out, his heart falling back into a comfortable rhythm - he reluctantly unwinds his arms from the other male’s body. 

The guy stands up, shoving the kickstand out into the open, and wastes no time in making his way towards one of the apartment doors. Hinata shakily lifts himself off of the bike, legs still trembling slightly, and hesitantly follows the guy into the building once he pulls out keys from one of his coat’s pockets, and unlocks the door. There are more stairs, and Hinata feels somehow exhausted already - most likely from the ride, it took a lot of strength for him to not burst into tears or slap the guy until he stopped the bike, although he could never see himself doing the latter. The guy’s too intimidating, as mentioned before.

So he cautiously follows the guy up the stairs, lungs aching slightly as he heaves in air, struggling to make it up the staircases. There are way too many, and the stairs never seem to end. 

But then the guy stops in front of one of the doors - a blue one, labeled _2B_ in gold letters - and finds another to key to unlock it with. The door closes behind the guy as he walks inside, slamming right in front of Hinata’s face, and then his heart slams into silence.

Is the guy really going to just _leave_ him out here?

Hinata breathes in the beginning of a sigh, moving to turn around and find his way out of there, but then the door suddenly opens - the guy makes sure to open it wide so that it doesn’t close again, so Hinata has more than enough time to get inside before it does. And Hinata rushes inside, pushing down the grateful smile that’s pulling at his lips, drawing in another deep breath.

He leans against the door after it closes, and the silence thickens, and he’s waiting for the guy to say something - _anything._

And he does, but not in the way that Hinata expects him to.

He grabs Hinata’s wrist again, less forceful and a little more gentle, and leads him down a hallway and into a large room. He turns the light on, and Hinata squints and frowns at the sudden brightness. The room's small, with a good-sized bed, along with a lamp sitting atop the bedside table. Kageyama gives Hinata a small push towards the bed, but as soon as Hinata turns to look at him, he turns away, and opens a closet door, beginning to fish through it.

“You can stay here for the night,” the guy says.

“But you’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Hinata nods, even though the guy can’t see him, and moves closer to the bed. It looks so nice and inviting, and Hinata can’t keep himself from flopping onto it. He waits a few seconds, spending them by breathing in the bed’s scent - it sort of relaxes him - before moving so he’s lying on his back.

“What’s your name?”

The words slip out of Hinata’s mouth, and out of the corners of his eyes, Hinata sees the guy freeze at them. He stays like that for a few moments, still as a statue. But then he thaws, finds what he’s looking for, stands up straighter, and turns to Hinata.

“Kageyama Tobio,” he replies flatly, throwing the shirt at the male on the bed.

The name rolls around Hinata’s mind, and before he can stop himself, he states his own name in response. 

Kageyama doesn’t say anything at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how to feel about this chapter


	3. Do I Wanna Know?

Several times during the night, Hinata wakes up.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, because one moment he’s in a deep, peaceful sleep, and the next he’s waking up in a cold sweat. It’s happened just a few seconds ago, and he’s sitting up in bed, blindly trying to see through the dark. All he knows is that he’s alone in the dark, sweat plastering his messy orange hair to his forehead, his eyes watery for no reason at all.

For a few seconds, he’s scared.

But then he remembers that he’s in Kageyama’s bed, Kageyama’s shirt practically swallowing him. It’s draped, extremely loose, over his smaller frame, and he’s clutching at it. He doesn’t know why, but for some _stupid fucking reason,_ Kageyama’s scent comforts him. It’s faint on the t-shirt, fading away and all, but when he lifts the thin fabric to his nose and inhales, calm washes over him and drowns out the fear.

His legs don’t tremble, and his heart doesn’t ache when he remembers the events of only a few hours ago. He decides that he’s okay with remembering. They were driving past the city - Hinata hadn’t seen any of it at all, he hated driving fast, and that was exactly what Kageyama had been doing. Hinata’s hands had been balled into fists in Kageyama’s jacket, and the panic was making him go numb.

He hadn’t trusted Kageyama, had he?

When someone gives you no choice but to follow them - hell, they’re pulling you by the wrist and pushing you onto a motorcycle, and you don’t even have time to protest - you have to trust them, right? 

Hinata sighs, cradling his face in his palms and letting his eyes close. He just wants to sleep, but every time he tries, he just ends up waking up again. He waits a few moments, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, before lifting his arms and stretching himself out. He throws the cozy blanket away from his body, sliding off the edge of the bed, his feet meeting the cold floor and sending a jolt of freezing electricity down his spine.

He navigates his way through the dark almost easily, only tripping over his own feet once or twice. He feels his way around the room for the door, and once he’s sure that he’s found it, his hand flies to where the handle should be. He turns it, opens it. The hallway is empty and dim, the only light coming from the bathroom. 

When Hinata makes his way to the bathroom he finds that that’s empty, too. 

A smile curves on his lips when at the thought of Kageyama being considerate. He really doesn’t look like the type to be considerate - dark hair, dark eyes, cold demeanor - and Hinata never would have guessed that it was _Kageyama_ who would do something like leave the light on, in case Hinata got up. 

But maybe Hinata was just jumping to conclusions - Kageyama could have accidentally left the light on after using the bathroom.

Hinata inwardly groans at himself, harshly turning the bathroom light off, before sauntering into what should be the kitchen. He silently tells himself to just stop _thinking,_ before reaching to where the kitchen light would be, and switches it on. 

Soon enough, he finds himself fishing throughout Kageyama’s fridge and cupboard, searching for food. He’s just about given up hope - god, does this guy have _anything_ to eat? - when he finds leftover pancakes in one of the bottom drawers. There are two or three of them, and they’re all pretty decent sizes - but no bacon. 

Hinata frowns at this, because really, how can you eat pancakes without bacon?

He takes the pancakes out of the drawer and bag, reaches up, and opens the microwave before placing the pancakes inside. 

He sets the time, and while he’s waiting, he looks for syrup and silverware.

It’s at least thirty seconds before the timer sounds, and Hinata startles, surprised by the sudden intrusion of silence. He quickly makes his way over to the microwave, opening it, and is greeted by a warm fog. But just as he’s about to reach inside, there’s a faint grumble, and he freezes.

He perks up, eyes turning around slightly, eyes flitting around the small kitchen for the source of sound. 

When he finds nothing - he checks around twice, just to make _sure_ that nothing’s there - he turns back around. He pulls the pancakes out of microwave as fast as he can, as they’re hot, and he’d completely forgotten to put them in with a plate.

As soon as he turns back around, he drops them on the counter, before rising to the very tips of his toes - damn his height - and opening one of the cabinets. Thankfully, he finds a stack of plates on the first try, and pulls two out of the small pile. He sets them onto the counter, carefully setting one pancake on each plate, before uncapping the bottle of syrup.

Just as he tips the bottle over, there’s another grumble.

Hinata freezes.

“Fuckin’,” a deep voice says faintly.

Hinata puts the syrup back down, cautiously sliding out of the kitchen, and peering around the counter. In the living room, there’s a body on the couch, and when a car races by outside, the headlights seep into the room. For a brief moment, before the darkness reappears, Hinata can see Kageyama curled up onto the couch.

“Fuckin’ _money._ ”

Hinata smiles slightly, moving back to quickly put syrup on the pancakes, and glances at the oven’s digital clock. It’s so early in the morning that Hinata can’t resist a yawn, as soon as the numbers register in his mind, and he switches the kitchen’s light off before making his way into the living room.

He searches for a tv remote - there’s a tv right in front of the couch, only a short distance away, and in between the two objects is an ottoman. He sets the plates of pancakes on top of it, splaying his hands all around the ottoman, still searching for a remote. When he doesn’t find it, he sighs, giving up. 

Kageyama grumbles again, and Hinata can just _barely_ see his face.

His lips are curled in a frown, his eyebrows knotted, and he’s talking in his sleep - far from peaceful. Hinata considers waking him up, but decides against it when Kageyama angrily slaps the arm of the couch in his sleep. 

Hinata moves closer, gently pushing Kageyama’s legs out of the way - they stretch all the way to the end of the couch, and Hinata can’t decide if the couch is short or if Kageyama is just that tall - before claiming the last cushion for himself to sit on. But as soon as Hinata’s weight is planted onto the couch, Kageyama kicks his leg out, shoes hitting Hinata’s thigh momentarily, before both of his legs lift up to rest over Hinata’s own.

Kageyama swears and mumbles more stuff, but by now, Hinata’s not really paying attention.

He’s contentedly eating his pancake, shoveling the food - which is practically drenched in syrup- into his mouth. He notes that Kageyama’s pancakes are good, and even if they aren’t Kageyama’s or are store-bought, they’re still good. He doesn’t stop eating them until they’re gone, and when that happens, he sighs, and sets the now empty plate back onto the ottoman. 

He wonders for few seconds if he should just take Kageyama’s food, too, because it really doesn’t look like said male will be waking up anytime soon. When Hinata sends a quick glance Kageyama’s way, that quick glance turns into a full minute of just gazing.

Somehow, during the short time that Hinata had been eating his pancake, Kageyama’s expression had dissolved into a more peaceful one. No frown, no knotted eyebrows, no grumbles. He looks calm, and like a sleeping person should.

Hinata stretches, raising his arms above his head, another yawn escaping his lips.

 _You can stay here for the night,_ Kageyama’s words echo in his mind.

_But you’re leaving tomorrow morning._

***

The taxi pulls to a stop.

When Hinata glances out of the tinted window, he sees the same house from last night. He murmurs a ‘thanks’ to the driver, hastily paying his fare, before hesitantly stepping out of the vehicle. 

There’s no reason for him to be nervous, really, and he knows that. 

The taxi speeds off as soon as he leaves it, and Hinata looks around cautiously, before making his way to the house. The only sound is the soft thudding of his shoes against the sidewalk. Beer bottles and cigarette packs litter the ground, a few people deeply asleep in the grass. 

Hinata ignores their quiet snores, instead bounding up the porch steps and reaching for the door’s handle. He turns it, and to his relief, it opens. He inhales deeply, telling himself that he’ll just get it over with, before making his way inside. 

Music’s still playing, but softer, a big difference from the blaring from the night before. 

There are even more bodies, though.

Hinata steps over them, grateful that a majority of the people from last night were gone, and even though most of the ones left are asleep, there a few still up. He passes those people - some are gathering their clothes, one guy’s leaning against the kitchen counter and smoking, and the rest are pretty much dancing or making out. 

He exhales when he doesn’t recognize any of the people as his friends.

He’d come to the house after returning Kageyama’s shirt and pulling on his own clothes, and was currently looking for said friends. They were always exhausted after partying, and he knew that from experience - those nights when they’d come to his house or shop, looking like drunk zombies - and he’d always be the one to take responsibility for them.

They were his friends, after all.

He continued wandering around, the thought of giving up not even crossing his mind.

When he had searched through that house at least three times, he finally decided to go with his last option. He tried retracing his steps from last night, and soon found himself making his way up the stairs, once again. He opened all of the doors in the hallway, just in case, to find couples dozing under the covers of every bed. 

He opened the very last door to have relief and slight frustration wash over him.

There was a girl perched on the edge of the bed, tugging her shoes onto her feet. Hinata averted his gaze, sweeping it across the room instead. There was a lump under the covers, and Hinata decided that that was another one of his friends. On the right side of the bed, there was the friend who’d dared him with the game, sat in a chair and downing a bottle of water.

Hinata waits until his friend stops drinking, before deciding to begin.

“I’m, um,” he stammers.

“I uh- I came to pick you up.”

His friend turns to him, eyes widening slightly. He stands up, hand flying up to rest on his forehead as soon as he does, and lets out a pitiful groan. 

“Hinata,” he pants, managing a pained grin.

Hinata resists rolling his eyes.

***

“Where’d he take you?,” his friend questions.

Hinata raises an eyebrow, turning to face the other male. 

“Who?”

The three of them were in another taxi, driving along the streets of the city. It was Hinata and his friends - the first was holding a conversation with Hinata, while the second was still asleep. Their destination was his first friend’s house, and Hinata had hoped that the ride would roll over in silence.

But of course, nothing ever seems to go the way Hinata wants.

“You _know_ who,” his friend mutters.

Hinata sighs at his friend’s persistence, but replies anyway.

“Just to his house,” he murmurs.

He then regrets it.

His friend’s eyebrows shoot up, a grimace already etching itself onto his face.

“He took you to his _house?_ ”

“No,” Hinata tries.

“No- no, n-not like that-”

“Shoulda known he was a fuckin’ _faggot,_ ” his friend sneers.

There it is.

Hinata’s heart sinks in his chest, a thousand years of ache dissolving into his lungs.

It’s sort of hard to breathe.

The silence thickens for a few moments, making Hinata feel uncomfortable, making his leg tremble - fucking anxiety - and making him shiver. 

All they can hear is the sound of tires across asphalt, the quietness of soft rock on the radio. 

The silence is crushed.

“Don’t,” his friend tells him, leaning closer.

“Don’t get near him again. He’s heartless and has no goddamn sense of emotion, so just forget you even met him, ‘kay?”

Hinata hesitates.

He wonders for a split-second if that’s all true, because even though Kageyama looks sort of heartless, there’s no solid proof that he is. 

Hell, he even let slept on the couch so Hinata could take the bed, and gave Hinata one of his shirts to wear - Hinata didn’t know why, as he hadn’t gotten his own shirt wet or anything, but he just went with it - and despite his appearance, he seemed like a sort of nice person.

When he wasn’t glaring at you for accidentally running into him, of course.

Hinata’s friend mistakes Hinata’s hesitance for resistance, so he frowns, placing a palm on Hinata’s forearm.

“Did you hear me, Shouyou? Forget you ever saw his _fucking_ face.”

Hinata wants to ask why.

He really does.

But he doesn’t; instead he nods in agreement, his heart sinking even lower.

***  


Kageyama wakes up a few hours later, the smell of pancakes and Hinata pulling him out of sleep.

He rubs at his eyes, looking down to find his shirt - the shirt he’d given Hinata - neatly folded beside him. He curses, a quiet ‘fuck’ slipping past his lips and into the open air, as he remembers his words from the night before.

He regrets them.

He doesn’t like being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is cliche trash


	4. I'll Hold My Breath

A few days pass by without any sign of Kageyama.

The night that he’d spent at the male’s house had ended in him taking a taxi with his friends to their shared apartment, before going back to his own, although he was left to pay both fares. He hadn’t really gotten a good sleep that night - he kept tossing and turning, which was sort of unusual for him, as he’d normally get a good night’s sleep - but he’d blamed that on being slightly shaken up after the party.

And after those few days, which was the weekend, Hinata had gotten relief and plenty of time to relax after that night. The party, and the weekend had shortly taken Hinata’s mind off of everything. Hinata had always valued the weekends, and he’s right to - he ran a small floral store downtown, which was very, _very_ slowly rising in popularity, and most of the time his job got extremely tiring. And it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy his ‘everyday life’, no - he was happily content with it.

But it’s really good to get away from it all sometimes, you know?

Now, to the current time.

The day is slowly coming to an end, although Hinata’s still patiently waiting for the lack of customers to make their decisions.

He’s perched behind the register counter, arms folded on top of it and staring off into space. The store’s pretty much silent, except for the slight rustle of petals as one of the customers removes a bouquet from a shelf, before putting it back.

Hinata sighs, resting his head against his arms, and exhaling.

A few beats slip by where Hinata feels like he’s going to drown in the silence, but then he snaps up at the sound of the door’s bell. His eyes widen when they land on Suga, who’s wearing his signature smile and waving politely. He makes his way into the shop, stopping only when he arrives directly in front of the counter.

Hinata thinks about smiling back, and his lips begin to curve, but then his smile drops altogether when he sees another familiar face - well, it’s sort of familiar. Hinata quickly racks his mind for any memories of the male in question, and sighs when he remembers.

“Hello again,” Suga exhales lightly.

“Not a busy day, huh?”

It’s the same guy from the night of the party - the one who had been greeting people at the door - the one with the short blonde hair and glasses. Hinata doesn’t even know how he could forget such cold eyes - they heavily compare to Kageyama’s, but somehow, at the same time, they’re nowhere near as cold.

“Yeah,” Hinata replies, this time letting a smile slip.

The guy stops behind Suga, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, and seems to _glare_ at Hinata. Hinata almost frowns at the harsh gaze, but manages to keep his smile plastered on.

“I was, um-” Suga begins, but trails off.

He coughs momentarily, and Hinata watches as he finds his words again.

“My, uh, my cousin. She’s having a wedding in a few days, and I was wondering if you’d be able to deal with the flowers?”

Hinata genuinely smiles at that, his features lighting up. He nods eagerly, leaning forward even more.

“Yeah, of course,” Hinata says.

“What kind of flowers were you thinking?”

Suga gives a nervous laugh at that, sheepishly rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Actually, Tsukishima-” Suga jerks a thumb at the male behind him.

“I forgot, sorry- Hinata, this is Tsukishima Kei.”

Tsukishima gives a little nod, still glaring. Hinata gives one back, sort of having the urge to shake the taller male’s hand - and damn, is he tall - but resists, and instead gives a single glance at Tsukishima before returning his gaze to Suga.

“He suggested hyacinths or marigolds, so I kinda came here to ask you.”

***

A few minutes later, and the three of them are making their way through the store, with Hinata pointing and naming just about every flower there.

He’d shown both Suga and Tsukishima the desired flowers, and the three of them agreed that yes, those would be good wedding flowers. But then Suga decided that he wanted to see a few more bouquets, just to get a taste of other flowers. Hinata agreed, along with Tsukishima - who was also giving little facts about the flowers as he passed them.

“Actually,” Tsukishima inhales sharply.

Hinata inwardly groans.

“Some specimens of camellia are over _two-hundred_ years old, not _one hundred._ ”

“Well, they’re nice,” Suga comments.

He reaches out, curling his fingers around an already-wrapped bouquet, before pulling it away from where it had been sitting on the shelf. He lifts it to his nose gently, a few petals falling to the ground. 

“And they smell good, too.”

“Hydrangeas,” Hinata smiles.

Suga sets the flowers back, following Hinata’s lead as the shorter male begins walking to the end of the aisle. The three continue walking around the store - Tsukishima always trailing behind, and Suga and Hinata sharing happy conversations - until they’ve made it back to the register counter. 

By now, Hinata’s back behind the register counter, silently watching as Suga decides. Tsukishima’s already paying - he’d mumbled something about buying a small bouquet of yellow tulips almost _immediately_ after Hinata had explained that they mean ‘hopelessly in love’. And like _hell_ would Hinata believe that Tsukishima was going to buy those flowers for someone who was _just a friend,_ especially after the blonde male’s cheeks lit up.

“I really like the Hydrangeas,” Suga comments.

“But I’m stuck between that and the carnations.”

Hinata quickly places the money that Tsukishima had given him for the flowers into the cash register, before sliding the door of the object shut and looking up.

“When did you say the wedding was?”

Suga’s eyes light up, and he gives Hinata a sudden apologetic smile.

“I came in pretty late, didn’t I? It’s this Friday, and oh- I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

Suga’s smile turns sheepish.

“No, it’s okay,” Hinata offers.

Tsukishima’s waiting by the door of the shop, holding a phone up to his ear. He’s got a frown on his lips - somehow different from his usual expression - and it makes Hinata sort of want to frown too, however weird that sounds, but he resists.

“I can hold them - both of the flowers - until Thursday, if you want? That way you’ll have enough time to decide, and you can come pick them up on Friday morning.”

Suga’s smile becomes wider, and he gives a curt, happy nod.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great. This means a lot to me, Hinata- thank you.”

Hinata gives a nod in response, cheeks heating up at Suga’s genuine gratefulness.

Then they’re interrupted when Tsukishima slams his phone shut, looking slightly flustered - which really goes against his ‘I-hate-the-world’ appearance, but Hinata keeps his mouth shut.

“I’ve, um,” Tsukishima begins.

He inhales sharply, reaching behind him without even looking, resting a hand on the door’s handle. The bell sounds again as Tsukishima pushes the door open, plants a foot on the sidewalk outside, and begins stammering out an explanation.

“I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later, Suga.”

Suga nods in response, and Hinata wonders momentarily if they’re friends or if they just simply know each other. But he pushes the thought away when Tsukishima leaves, and Suga turns back to him. 

“Again, Hinata, thank you,” Suga exhales.

Hinata nods, offering a smile in return, and soon enough, he’s alone again.

***

The last few hours are spent in silence, like the majority of the day.

A few more customers wander in, but leave before Hinata really even gets any chance to really look at them. They speed into the store like a blur, and leave in the same fashion. Hinata spends the evening still perched behind the counter, humming a rhythm-less tune and letting the smell of flowers relax him.

Hinata doesn’t really like silence, although it’s the majority of his life.

He’s always liked flowers, ever since he was little - instead of getting his knees scraped against the asphalt and riding bikes and flirting with girls, Hinata wanted to help his grandmother in the garden and learn how to bake and watch the sun rise. And when people began talking about him because of his interests, he simply ignored them, because he knew a magic that no one else did.

Planting a seed and taking care of it and watering it and watching it grow, that was one of the most beautiful things that Hinata had ever been able to witness.

And when he grew up, he really hadn’t planned on becoming a florist - his father wanted him to become a lawyer or a doctor, and his mother had dreams of him becoming a teacher. Those ideas weren’t bad, they were just a few of the things that Hinata could never see himself living a life as.

So he bought a store from an old man who died shortly after his grandmother, and used it to create his own floral shop. 

And even though it’s amounted to everything Hinata’s ever wished for and more, there’s one thing that still bothers him.

The _silence._

Hinata sighs, watching as his latest customer leaves the shop.

His eyes glance up to the clock on the wall, and he sighs when he notices that it’s time for him to close. He unties his apron, crossing the short distance from where he’s standing to where the hooks on the wall are, and hangs up the article of clothing there. He makes his way back, reaching behind the counter and opening one of the drawers.

He pulls out his keys, briefly fishing for the right one before making his way to the shop’s entrance.

He reaches back over to the hooks on the wall, pulling on his jacket, and slinging the strap of his messenger bag around his shoulder. He walks out of the store, checking twice after he’s locked the store to make _sure_ that it’s locked, before beginning to make his way down the streets of town.

The sky’s darkened to a murky cerulean, almost gloomy.

Hinata breathes the night air in, tugging his bag’s strap back up his arm when it falls down - that happens a lot as a result of Hinata’s quick pace. He’s somewhere in between a walk and a run, passing the countless other stores without paying any attention. There’s occasional nervous glances that he gives to his settings, and his heart’s beating his fast, but he’s trying not to let the late-night atmosphere get to him.

As always, night brings bad news.

Hinata makes it only a few blocks down, silently relieved that he’s made it this far - he knows that he shouldn’t really be worried, as he’s never run into any trouble late at night. 

But you can never be too careful, right?

And Hinata only makes it past a few more blocks when he hears muffled shouts. He freezes abruptly, heart speeding up, urging himself to keep moving. He takes in his newfound surroundings with a quick breath - he’s standing a few feet away from the curb, an alley separating buildings and the two sidewalks. 

The noises are coming from somewhere in the alley, and although Hinata’s inwardly begging himself to _just keep moving,_ he can’t bring himself to budge. He exhales before drawing in another deep breath, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

He slowly edges his way towards the building, his back making contact with the brick wall, and splays his hands against the surface. Now the sounds are louder, and Hinata stays silent, straining to hear. 

He knows that whatever’s happening in that alleyway is none of his business, and he needs to leave before - there’s a slight chance that he might, and his heart sinks at the thought - he gets pulled into the situation himself. 

Someone curses, and then Hinata swallows thickly, eyes widening when he hears the sounds of a fight. He’s never really seen or heard one before, but it’s not really hard to tell that something horrible is happening in the darkness and narrowness of that alley.

Hinata draws in another breath, telling himself to just get it over with.

He quietly peers around the building’s corner, eyes widening even further when he takes in the sight.

A single figure’s lying on the ground, lying limp. Their arms are curled, their hands shielding their face, and when Hinata squints through the darkness, he can see them trembling slightly. Other figures - taller people, seemingly guys - are standing around the figure, landing kicks and even bending over a few times to strike a few punches.

They’re hitting the figure harshly, silently, saying nothing as the figure tries to make itself smaller, tries to make itself disappear. Hinata wants to do something, and his heart’s beating so loud that it hurts, and he’s about to start shaking himself. 

He watches for a few more seconds, the helplessness settling into his stomach and making his fists clench. He wants to do something - he doesn’t even know how the fight started, or why he’s still here. But he’s too scared to even rush past, too scared to do anything, and also too scared to _not_ do anything.

And he really, _really_ wants to do something. 

So he does, but not in the way he was expecting.

He moves backward, feet quietly scraping against the sidewalk, hands clutching the wall as he tries to steady himself. But then one foot moves faster than the other, and his heel slides past a small bump on the sidewalk, and he legs give way. He begins grabbing for empty air, breath hitching as it dawns on him that he’s about to fucking _fall._

It’s just like at the party, except he actually falls, slumping against the sidewalk in a quick blur of the night sky and the pavement, and the brick buildings and the sound of muffled, pained shouts. A little yelp escapes his lips when he actually hits the ground, and then the silence comes crashing down.

Hinata’s eyes fly open, and then all at once his whole body freezes with fear, but he’s scrambling to his feet. He only makes it a few steps, already panting for air, aching to pick up the pace again. But as soon as he’s making his way past the corner - rushing past, actually, averting his eyes and hoping for the best - rough fingers grab at the collar of his jacket, yanking him backwards.

He slams into someone, another yelp rising in his throat but dying as soon as it reaches the tip of his tongue. When he opens his eyes - when did he close them? - he sees the same sight from before, only closer. Slight anger and fear aches in chest when he sees the figure again, lying motionless on the gravel. 

The guys from before have stopped hitting them, and Hinata swallows thickly when he recognizes two of them.

There’s Tsukishima, a glare in his eyes - more menacing than the one that Hinata had received in his shop - and his lip is curled in a frown. Kageyama’s beside him, fists shoved in the _Karasuno_ jacket - and now that Hinata looks, everyone there besides himself is wearing it.

The grip disappears from his own jacket, and then he’s shoved toward Kageyama, almost tripping over the body that’s between them. 

Kageyama doesn’t notice Hinata until the shorter male nearly crashes into him once again, but when he does, his grimace slips away. His dark eyes flash with recognition, but then that cold expression returns, and the fear is back.

“Tobio,” someone grumbles from behind Hinata, and then he’s being shoved forward again.

He slaps the guy’s hand away, whipping around to glare at the male behind him, but he stops when the guy returns the stare.

“What do you want to do with him?”

Kageyama exhales a thin cloud of ghostly smoke, and that’s when Hinata notices the cigarette between his fingers. He stares down at Hinata, giving no emotion. But then he moves away from the wall, and Hinata tries not to watch as Kageyama gives a sharp kick to the figure’s body. It’s not really enough to hurt the person, but just enough to roll them over. 

The figure doesn’t move.

“Let him go,” Kageyama replies flatly.

The opening to the alley is only a few paces away - Hinata could make a break for it. There’s nothing holding him back, nothing at all.

Except for Kageyama’s dark eyes, gazing into his own and making it hard for Hinata to suppress a shiver.

“Are you sure?,” the guy behind him begins.

“He saw us. Are you sure you want to-”

“Let him _go,_ ” Kageyama snaps back, the tone in his voice a cruel demand.

It’s silent for a few moments, but then Hinata’s being pushed again. This time, he’s moving closer to towards the opening, and yes, this is his chance. He can hit the ground running, he can feel the moonlight and humid atmosphere seep into his lungs as he runs so fast that his legs ache. 

But there’s something about the way that Kageyama’s _looking_ at him, those stormy eyes holding hidden thunderstorms, almost hypnotizing.

Kageyama’s not a good person.

Hinata should run.

“Go,” Kageyama orders bitterly.

He slides the cigarette back between his lips, and inhales.

***

“I’m _fine,_ ” Hinata insists. 

Kageyama grumbles something in response, but doesn’t let go of Hinata’s bag.

The night’s only gotten darker, but Hinata no longer feels cautious. It’s actually pretty dumb, but Hinata feels sort of _safe_ by Kageyama’s side, and maybe that’s because of how intimidating the other male looks. Especially with the cigarette perched between his lips, but at the same time, Hinata doesn’t want to trust Kageyama.

It’s easy to, and Hinata doesn’t know why, but the scene from before - Kageyama and those guys and the helpless figure alley, and no, Kageyama is _not_ turning out to be a good guy. But at the same time, Kageyama is no longer glaring at him.

And the fact that as soon as Hinata was making his way out of the alley, countless burning gazes watching him go, Kageyama stepped forward and said that he’d take Hinata home. That fact matters. And the fact that as soon as they were heading towards Kageyama’s car - he’d said that he’d parked it a little ways away, and although that sentence wouldn’t sound good coming from anyone else, there it is again, Hinata finds it so _easy_ to trust Kageyama - Kageyama had offered to carry Hinata’s bag for him.

That fact matters, too.

“I got it,” Hinata had huffed, tugging the strap back up for the millionth time.

“Let me,” Kageyama had muttered, reaching for the bag.

Hinata had shaken his head, but as soon as he had, the bag was being pulled away from him. When he turned to look at the taller male, Kageyama was already holding the bag.

“It’s just a bag,” Hinata had told him.

“I can get it myself. Your car’s not that far away - that’s what you said, right?”

“You owe me,” Kageyama had replied.

“Owe you?,” Hinata had turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. We were in the middle of something, or are you too fucking blind? You just walked in and fucked _everything_ up, you know that? So you _owe_ me.”

And Hinata’s still trying to figure out what Kageyama means by that.

If Hinata’s going to owe something to Kageyama, then he should be the one doing something for Kageyama, right? Not the other way around. Then why- what- _why_ was Kageyama insisting on carrying his bag?

***

“You talk in your sleep.”

“I don’t talk in my fucking sleep, you dumbass. Hurry up and unlock the door.”

One moment they’re standing in front of the door to Hinata’s apartment, and the next they’re making their way inside. Hinata pulls his jacket off, setting it next to where Kageyama’s placing his messenger bag on the couch. After that, Hinata switches the light on before moving into the kitchen. 

Kageyama follows, watching in silence as Hinata opens the fridge and begins fishing through it.

“What did I say?”

Hinata pauses from where he’s reaching for last night’s dinner - a cold slice of pizza.

“What?”

Kageyama brings the cigarette up to his lips and draws in a breath, but then Hinata makes his way over, snatching the object away from the taller male. He drops it on the ground, smashing it against the floor with his shoe, before looking up and challenging Kageyama to say something about it.

Kageyama simply sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What did I say in my sleep?”

Hinata makes his way back over to the fridge, pulling out the zip-locked slice of pizza.

“Something about money,” he begins, but then turns back to Kageyama.

“And you swear a lot, too.”

And it might just be Hinata’s imagination, but the _exact_ moment the word ‘money’ slips past his lips, Kageyama snaps up. Quickly realizing what he did, Kageyama tries to relax, but it’s already too late. Hinata quirks an eyebrow in question, but doesn’t say anything.

“Forget it, okay?”

Hinata opens the nearby microwave, taking the slice out of its bag before setting it inside. He sets the time, shuts the door, and turns back to the other male.

“I don’t have much to eat, but you can have the pizza. If you want.”

Kageyama frowns, pulling his hands out of his jacket’s pockets, and placing them on the edge of the counter.

“What are you going to eat, then?”

“I dunno,” Hinata replies.

“Toast or something.”

Kageyama sighs at that, and makes his way over to Hinata’s cabinet. He pulls it open, dark eyes dragging slowly over the contents, before sighing again.

“You really don’t have anything to eat. You have the pizza, _I’ll_ get toast.”

Just then, the microwave goes off, a high-pitched beep that almost startles both Hinata and Kageyama.

Hinata rushes over to it, pulling it open and this time, he has a plate under his food. He pulls the plate out, placing it on the counter, and sending a quick glance Kageyama’s way.

“Are you sure?”

Kageyama closes the cabinet, and nods.

“Just hurry up before I change my mind.”

***

A cheap late-night tv show is playing on the screen. Kageyama’s already finished his poor excuse for ‘toast’ - he’d burned it, but stubbornly refused Hinata’s offer to make him more - while Hinata’s still slowly eating the slice of pizza. 

His eyes are focused on the tv show, and he lets out little laughs when something’s funny, but Kageyama’s not paying attention. His own gaze is on Hinata, and even though he has no idea why, whenever Hinata laughs, it makes him smile. Not one of those smirks or half-smiles, no - it’s a genuine, simple smile, and it’s been a long time - _too long_ \- since Kageyama has felt one of those on his lips.

Sure, it’s a small smile, and Kageyama feels slight fear at the thought of Hinata turning to him and seeing his smile, but it’s still a smile all the same.

By the time Hinata’s finished his pizza, and sets down his plate on the ottoman, another show’s already beginning.

He stretches, winding his arms in the air above him, and sitting up a little straighter. A small noise escapes his lips, and it does _not_ sound like he’s stretching anymore. It’s a moan, and then Kageyama’s all ears. He watches and listens, heart pounding as Hinata does it again.

_Fuck._

This time, Kageyama turns away quickly, averting his eyes and trying to slow his racing mind.

Hinata notices the quick movement, raising an eyebrow. He senses that something’s different, but instead of pointing out the other male’s sudden - what do you call it? mood change? - well, whatever it is, Hinata doesn’t point it out. 

Instead, he moves the topic to the night of the party, carefully beginning to search for an answer.

“Kageyama,” he murmurs.

Kageyama turns to him, looking a little ruffled.

“ _What?_ ”

His voice is harsh, and it makes he himself wince a little - that’s not how he wanted to sound - and his heart gives an ache when Hinata winces, too.

“I, um,” Hinata begins.

He inhales deeply, before starting over again.

“At the party. What was going on in the room?”

Kageyama visibly tenses at the question.

Hinata gives him time to relax, patiently waiting for a response.

“Just _forget it,_ okay?”

“Please,” Hinata says, but is cut off when Kageyama begins to glare at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just,” Hinata’s floundering for an excuse.

One floats into his mind, and then he’s returning Kageyama’s glare.

“I deserve to know. And you owe me too. I was having a good time at the party, and then _you_ took me away from it without a reason.”

It’s a lie, but Kageyama buys it.

Kageyama huffs at his words, but realizes that Hinata’s right, and then he huffs again.

“It’s really none of your fucking business. If you want to know, then you’re gonna have to meet me tomorrow.”

He swells with pride at his words, because Hinata's _definitely_ not going to want to go through with it, but then his pride deflates when Hinata replies calmly.

“Okay,” is all he says.

And Kageyama’s just about had enough.

He wants to see Hinata less confident, less so _sure of himself._

So he leans forward slowly, watching in silence as Hinata’s eyes widen, and neither of them bother to look away. He places his palms on either side of Hinata’s body, flat against the couch, and shifts so he’s perfectly above the other male. Hinata falls onto his back, his breath hitching, heart thrumming against his chest. The atmosphere’s somehow managed to get warm, which doesn’t explain why Hinata feels like shivering. 

He blames that on Kageyama’s unwavering gaze.

Hinata looks away, face heating up when Kageyama moves a hand from the couch to gently caress his cheek. He clutches at Kageyama’s shirt, but is unable to when Kageyama leans down further, pressing his own body flush against Hinata’s.

“Yeah?,” he murmurs.

His lips ghost over the soft curve of Hinata’s neck, his heart clenching at the quick intake of breath that Hinata breathes in. That’s when he brushes his lips against Hinata’s jaw, and Hinata fucking _trembles_ at that, moving his arms to drape over Kageyama’s shoulders.

“Meet me tomorrow,” he repeats, sliding a knee between Hinata’s thighs.

Hinata arches, the beginning of a gasp escaping his parted lips. But it dies down as soon as it’s made, and Kageyama wastes no time in deciding that he wants to hear a _full_ gasp, that he wants Hinata to arch into his touch.

“Okay,” Hinata replies quietly.

And he’s already melting beneath Kageyama, fingers tightly curled into the rough fabric of the other male’s jacket as Kageyama begins nipping at his neck between those heart-shattering kisses.

And wow, how Hinata would probably faint if Kageyama actually kissed him on the lips.

“Burger King,” Kageyama inhales.

“The one by Walmart.”

His warm breath fogs against Hinata’s neck, and his words _almost_ go unheard by the other male.

 _Burger King,_ Hinata tells himself inwardly.

Because Kageyama’s just ruined the damn mood with the mention of a fucking _fast-food restaurant._

“Meet me at Burger King.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how romantic


	5. It's Been Cold for Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dinosaurs in stomach & first name basis yES (⊙◞౪◟⊙)  
> 

After that, Hinata and Kageyama had exchanged numbers. They’d also set a time and a date - tomorrow at five - and even though Hinata knew that it was just going to be a small meeting, he couldn’t help that every time he thought of seeing Kageyama again, his heart fluttered with excitement. Although, more than once, he’d brushed the feeling off as a “simple reaction to a new friendship.”

Suga sighs.

He lifts the bouquet of hydrangeas up to the light, and squints. They’re a blueberry color, but all the petals almost become transparent, the light nearly seeping through them.

It’s Thursday, and the store’s pretty much empty except for the three of them. _The three of them_ being Hinata behind the counter, Suga deciding on flowers, and Tsukishima focused on the screen of his phone.

“My sister, she likes anything pink,” Suga nods to the bouquet of amaranth-colored carnations clutched in his left hand, before turning back to the bouquet of hydrangeas in his right.

“But she said that her fiance likes these.”

A few beats slip by of silence, the only real sound being the tapping of Tsukishima’s thumb on his phone. But then Tsukishima grumbles something under his breath, gaining both Hinata and Suga’s gazes.

“Just get them both, then.”

Suga lifts the carnations up to the light.

“That’s a nice idea, Kei,” he hums, genuine.

“But I’m a little broke. My paycheck doesn’t come in until Saturday.”

The little twinge of guilt Hinata suddenly feels in his heart is inevitable. He could completely drop the price, for the the sake of his friend. Suga deserves it, he really does. But before Hinata can say anything, before he can even part his lips, Tsukishima finally looks up from the screen of his phone. 

“I’ll pay,” he says.

Suga snaps up, eyes wide. Hinata swears that he almost drops the flowers.

“Kei, you-”

“I owe you, remember? Consider this payment.”

Suga falls silent, and Hinata is left to wonder at Tsukishima’s words.

The blonde male shoves a hand into one of the pockets of his jeans, fishes around for a few moments before pulling out his desired item. It’s a wallet, dark, but when he fully retrieves and opens it, the light hits it and makes it shine. 

“How much do they cost?,” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer.

Instead he moves closer to Suga, and reaches towards the price tags. It only takes him a few seconds to register the numbers, and then he’s returning his attention back to his wallet. He pulls the money out in a heart, slams it onto the counter, and startling Hinata.

For the first time that afternoon, their eyes meet. And Hinata’s not sure if Tsukishima’s gaze is harsher than it’s ever been, darker and withholding some kind of meaning. It’s only after Tsukishima moves back to let Suga take his place in front of the counter, only after Suga slides the two bouquets across the counter, that it hits Hinata.

Memories from the night before come rushing at him, and he freezes. Tsukishima’s no longer glaring at him, thank god, but that fact doesn’t help the situation at all. It’s not really what Hinata wants to think about, really. But what if Tsukishima _is_ upset about that night, and is even more upset with Hinata. And suddenly Hinata’s grateful that Suga’s here, because he has no idea how he’d even deal with having to be alone with Tsukishima.

After Hinata places the money in the cash register and scans the price tags, Suga pauses.

“Shouyou,” Suga asks, uncertain.

“You okay?”

Hinata pauses, too.

He nods slowly, sliding the two bouquets - now in a plastic bag - back across the counter to Suga. It’s clear that Suga’s still unconvinced, so Hinata raises an eyebrow, and offers up a half-hearted smile. 

The uneasiness settles in his stomach when he catches Tsukishima’s eye for a split-second, but he forces his smile even wider.

“I’m okay,” he responds.

“Just a little excited about the wedding. I’ve never been to one before, and they seem fun.”

Quick diversion, perfect excuse.

Suga’s thick eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, and he can’t help but to smile back.

“Really? You can come if you want. I’m bringing some of my other friends, too.”

“Thanks, but I’m not good with big events,” Hinata laughs.

Suga picks the plastic bag up, slinging his over his shoulder. Tsukishima grumbles something again, but this time it doesn’t reach Hinata’s ears. Suga nods to him in response, even though he’s back to staring at his phone’s screen. 

“Well,” he smiles.

“I’ll make sure to bring back lots of pictures.”

***

Burger King is crowded.

It’s not that big, and it can barely contain the amount of people. There are even some people waiting to order or already eating outside, unable to find any real room in the restaurant. It’s so crowded that Hinata has to sort of fight to breath, so crowded that he feels like he’s drowning in the sea of people and their respective bodies and faces.

Their body heat and greasy hands and mouths, working around every word they say and biting down on burgers and fries - all of those things suffocate him.

Hinata’s never been good with crowds.

Kageyama’s outside, a cigarette burning between his parted lips. The thin clouds of smoke come out as ghostly whites, seeping into the warm atmosphere. 

He’s waiting for Hinata.

Hinata had told him that he’d order the food and pick a table. Kageyama had told him in response to “get anything that looks good,” and “I’ll wait out here. Come back when you’re done.” Now he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s seen the other male, probably only a few minutes. But the time just seems to drag on, no matter how hard Kageyama tries to make it pass faster.

He’d made up some kind of beat with only the bottom of his shoe and the concrete, and he’d even eavesdropped on a few nearby conversations. There was one that was pretty interesting, actually, but the people who started it left as soon as they’d finished their food. Two women had taken their place, and once again, Kageyama can’t help but listen in.

He turns towards the two women slightly, eyes raking over the copper-haired female who seems to be shaking. Her face is buried in her hands, and even over the buzzing yet small crowd, Kageyama can her sobs and sniffles. Her friend, a blonde, leans forward. She places her hand on top of the other’s, and gives a squeeze.

“Are you sure, Yumako?”

The copper-haired woman, Yumako, nods slowly. She raises her head and embarrassedly wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, before reaching towards her purse. She stops, looking up, and Kageyama turns away for a split-second to avoid her gaze. He turns back to see her holding up a napkin, before hearing a quiet gasp from the blonde.

“Yumako,” the blonde murmurs.

She takes the napkin, and Kageyama squints, trying to see what’s wrong with it. But before he can do anything more, he’s startled when he gets a full view of Hinata instead. The shorter male is looking up at him expectantly, hands jammed into his pockets.

“What’d you get?,” Kageyama asks, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.

“You’ll see,” Hinata responds, before stopping abruptly.

Kageyama frowns. He waits for Hinata to continue, only to have his eyes widen when Hinata rises to the very tips of his toes. He snatches the cigarette from Kageyama’s hand once again, before dropping it and crushing it with his shoe. He then points to the ‘no smoking’ sign behind him without looking, eyes narrowing.

“I know,” Kageyama snaps.

“I was gonna put it out before I went inside.”

Hinata arches an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“You need to stop smoking,” he huffs.

Kageyama shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

***  
They have a table at the very back of the restaurant, hidden away by the crowd. Kageyama had forced his way through the throng of people almost immediately after Hinata had pointed him in the direction towards it. And he’d done something that had startled Hinata down to his very core, something that made his chest tighten and his eyes widen.

He had grabbed Hinata’s hand, lacing their fingers together before shoving everyone else out of his way. 

Hinata had gasped when he’d done it, but didn’t do anything other than stumble along behind the other male, his mind completely blank. As soon as they had found their table, Kageyama had let go of his hand. That made Hinata’s heart sink, but he didn’t say anything. 

Instead he’d sat down across from Kageyama, and had retrieved the food from where he’d hidden it under the table. The two bags were now on top of the table, with Kageyama eyeing both of them suspiciously.

“I can’t believe you,” he sighs.

“I told you to ‘get anything that looks good’.”

“I did,” Hinata responds.

He avoids Kageyama’s gaze he reaches towards one of the bags, pulling it towards himself and opening it. It’s not much, really. He takes out the burger first, unwrapping it and scrunching up his nose when he smell reaches his nose. Kageyama watches as he takes the first bite, hesitating on whether or not he should start eating.

“It’s good,” Hinata tells him.

“If you don’t want yours, I’ll take it.”

Kageyama inwardly groans, but reaches forward. He curls his fingertips over the top of the bag, brings it closer to himself, and opens it. He pulls out the burger first, like Hinata, and unwraps it. To be honest, he’s not really much of a fast-food eater. He doesn’t really like fast-food at all, but somehow, with the reason of taking Hinata out, his dislike for Burger King and all the restaurants like it completely disappears.

Each bite is hard to swallow as he continues to watch Hinata down his burger happily, as if it’s not just some greasy excuse for food. So he does the same, more slowly, taking little sips of whatever Hinata got him - it tastes like pepsi, but he’s not sure - in between. 

Before long, he’s halfway done, and Hinata’s already finished.

“I borrowed money,” Kageyama says between bites.

Hinata snaps up, surprised.

“What?”

Kageyama finally finishes his burger, and crumples up the wrapper. He takes out the fries, before shoving the wrapper into the bag.

“You wanna know what happened in the room, right?”

Hinata nods slowly, less eager than before.

“I borrowed money.”

Hinata raises an eyebrow. He grabs the small bag of fries just as Kageyama reaches for it, and holds it up in the air. Kageyama sighs, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair.

“That’s not all of it,” Hinata mumbles. 

“Tell me the whole truth.”

This is what they came for, anyway. Hinata takes out a fry, bringing it up to his lips before carefully sliding the bag back towards Kageyama. Kageyama takes a few, chews, swallows.

“I needed money, so I borrowed some your friend. I just,” he breathes.

He hesitates, but as soon as he does, Hinata’s reaching towards him again. Not for the fries this time, no. He places on top of Kageyama’s, warm and gentle, his eyes practically glowing with concern. And oh how Kageyama would shove him off if he could, if Hinata was anyone else. But he isn’t, and it’s so fucking confusing, because when Hinata gives his hand a caring squeeze his heart leaps into his throat, and he can’t look away.

Why is he melting so fast?

“I just haven’t returned the money yet.”

Hinata pauses.

“If,” he starts.

“If you don’t return the money, what will happen?"

Kageyama stiffens.

“Nothing good,” he murmurs.

“Remember when I said it was none of your business?”

Hinata nods. It’s somehow surprising that Kageyama’s voice isn’t as harsh as it had been the last time he’d said those words, how soft and unsure his tone is. He’s so tough looking, and he’s already starting to crack. Hinata stops nodding.

“I’ll help,” he murmurs, removing his hand from Kageyama’s.

His own tone is fierce and steady. The warmth is still there, even though a table’s between them.

“How?”

“I’ll give you the money needed.”

And he doesn’t even really know Kageyama, and this whole thing is actually pretty dumb, but his heart’s starting to beat faster, and he isn’t ready to back down. He’s starting to like Kageyama, as weird as that sounds, and he gets all fluttery and warm inside at the thought of being Kageyama’s friend.

That’s even weirder sounding.

“It’s just another few hundred dollars,” Kageyama scoffs.

“I’ll be able to get it by myself.”

He’s reaching inside his pockets for his packet of cigarettes now. His fingers clutch the item, thumb caressing the bending surface. He swallows.

“Kageyama,” Hinata snaps.

Kageyama’s grip loosens on the cigarettes.

“Just let me help.”

He doesn’t even know why he wants to help, but his mind and tongue run away from him. 

“Goddamnit, Hinata,” Kageyama snarls.

But before he can say anything, the door to the restaurant opens. The steady, sound of shoes on linoleum echo around the near-silent store. Both Kageyama and Hinata turn to look at the new customers, but Hinata frowns slightly when Kageyama visibly freezes. 

Four guys make their way inside, fists jammed inside the pockets of their jackets or pants, and - _jackets._ They stand before the counter, ordering, backs turned toward the rest of the restaurant. Imprinted on the very center on the back their jackets, in big white letters, is _Nekoma._

Kageyama hisses out Hinata’s name, reaching over and placing his hand on top of Hinata’s to shake him out of it. Hinata snaps back, eyes widened in worry. He’s heard of Nekoma, just about everyone has. They’re just as big, if not bigger than Karasuno, and equally as harsh and ruthless.

It makes Hinata’s heart sink.

Kageyama belongs to a gang, he knows this, but it’s only now that he fully realizes it. Because Kageyama is in a _gang,_ and yes, people get hurt and yes, it’s dangerous. And _yes,_ gangs have rivals, but _fuck,_ why is Hinata only realizing this now?

“Hinata,” Kageyama repeats.

“Hinata, put your hood up.”

Hinata does as he says, fingers trembling slightly as the urgence in Kageyama’s voice seeps inside of him and echoes around his mind. He quickly pulls his hood up over his head, looking down at the table as Kageyama does the same. The other male returns his hand back to Hinata’s, this time lacing their fingers together like when they’d been in the midst of the crowd, and squeezes, as if to reassure him.

“Kageyama,” Hinata murmurs, afraid.

“Yeah?”

“What’s- what’s going on?”

Hinata briefly peers past Hinata, careful as to not stare too long. The guys have already ordered, and are reaching for their food. 

“Remember last night?”

Hinata nods, cautious.

“One of theirs went to sell us out,” Kageyama mutters.  


“So we just returned the favor.”

Hinata swallows, watching as the group move towards a table nearby. They pull out the chairs, each taking his own seat, before unwrapping the bags as Kageyama and Hinata had done. It’s only after one of them takes a bite of his burger - he’s got messy raven-colored hair that forms a sort of fringe on one side of his face, nearly covering one of his eyes - that they look around.

The guy’s gaze connects with Hinata’s, and Hinata freezes up.

His eyes are unreadable, but he offers a small, simple smile. It sends a cold shiver into Hinata’s bones, but then Kageyama’s giving his hand another squeeze, catching his attention.

“Hinata,” Kageyama whispers.

“I need you to leave.”

Hinata fully registers his words, and turns back to look at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Just go,” Kageyama tells him.

“Why?”

“ _Now._ ”

Hinata can feel the raven-haired guy’s gaze burning into him. It’s unsettling, and it makes him stand on complete edge. He grips the edge of the table until knuckles turn white, but once he finds the courage, he does what Kageyama says. He stands up, gently pushing back his chair, and quickly picks the bags up. 

He makes his way away from the table, back turned towards Kageyama and the Nekoma guys, and only pauses to shove the bags in the trash bin. He opens the restaurant’s exit door, cautiously giving a single glance back. Kageyama’s right behind, and his heart leaps at the sudden closeness of him.

They don’t stop walking until they’re in the parking lot, until they’re right by Kageyama’s motorcycle.

“How’d you get here?,” Kageyama asks quietly.

He shifts a leg over the motorcycle, claiming his seat.

“Taxi,” Hinata murmurs.

“Kageyama, where are you going?”

Kageyama digs into the pockets of his jackets for a few moments, before pulling out keys. He jams a key into the ignition of the motorcycle. Soon enough, the sound of the engine slices through the silence, causing Hinata to bite his lip and wince.

“Get on or don’t,” Kageyama mutters.

He firmly places his feet onto the pedals of the motorcycle, gripping the handlebars firmly. Then he turns to Hinata, and finally sees the uncertainty in his eyes, and then he’s lacing his fingers with Hinata’s again. He does it gentle, careful, patiently waiting for Hinata’s answer.

“I won’t make you get on,” he tells Hinata, picking his words cautiously.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll get a taxi.”

Hinata’s breath hitches. The only thing he can see is where he and Kageyama are connected. Surprisingly, Kageyama’s fingers are warm, soft and pressed together against his own. It makes his heart flutter even more than when he’d thought about seeing Kageyama again, and a lump of something he can’t quite place form in his throat. 

And it breaks something in him, even though it’s just a little thing. But it’s so big to Hinata, and it makes his cheeks flush and his mind go blank, once again. Because Kageyama, the one who’s all tough and smokes cigarettes on a daily basis and glares at boys who bump into him, he’s not forcing and dragging Hinata onto his motorcycle like before. 

This time, he’s asking, careful and slow and soft. 

So Hinata clutches his hand harder than he probably should, mind swimming too fast, and joins Kageyama on the motorcycle. As soon as he does, though, the deep laughter of boys disrupts the silent atmosphere, and Hinata quickly turns back to see the Nekoma guys. Fortunately, the don’t look to where Kageyama and Hinata are perched, and continue making their way further away from Burger King.

Kageyama whispers his name, releasing their hands to place his own upon Hinata’s wrists. He guides Hinata’s arms around his waist, making sure that Hinata feels safe before taking off.

***

“I’m surprised you know the way to my apartment,” Hinata murmurs.

He’s standing on the tips of his toes again, this time in the doorway to his apartment, palms resting on Kageyama’s clothed shoulders. Kageyama’s hands have somehow found their way to Hinata’s waist, and god, he’s pretty sure that his face is on fire. He’s got no idea how Hinata can be so calm about things like this, but it’s so hard to talk, let alone voice his question.

“I remember things,” Kageyama wants to snap back, but his voice is softer than expected.

“Like how you don’t like crowds.”

Hinata’s eyes widen. His feet are starting to hurt, but he doesn’t want to rest them flat upon the floor. So he stays put, legs trembling only slightly, and presses his body against Kageyama’s. Kageyama, startled by the sudden movement, allows his arms to fly around Hinata’s waist, only to pull him closer.

Hinata hums.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?”

Kageyama does, he really does. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll go home alone. He’ll go home to an empty room, to an empty apartment, back to an empty life. He’s used to it, he knows, and he’s survived the majority of his life without Hinata at all. But after getting just a small taste, after just a little glimpse of Hinata, he wants to hold him close, kinda wants to hold his hand again.

It makes his heart clench, and it makes him feel gross, but in the good way.

Is there even a good gross?

“Yeah,” he lies.

“I’ve gotta get home.”

He clasps his hands together behind Hinata’s back, but doesn’t budge.

“Wait,” Hinata breathes.

He reaches down, digging into one of his jacket pockets, before retrieving an item that has Kageyama struck with disbelief. He leans up, ignoring how his feet ache even more, and is just about to move, when Kageyama firmly holds onto him, and lifts him up. Hinata winds his legs around Kageyama’s hips purely as a reflex, breath hitching at how close they are.

He bites his lip, easing back into what he’d been doing before.

He places the item atop Kageyama’s head, brushing a few locks of darkness away from the other’s face. 

Neither of them are sure how they’d even gotten into this position. They were only making their way to Hinata’s door a few moments ago. But it didn’t matter, because suddenly Kageyama was happier than he’d ever been, even though he won’t admit it.

His eyes flutter shut, and a small smile curves onto his lips.

“There,” Hinata sighs.

“It suits you.”

Kageyama’s eyes open again, although he can’t see what’s on top of his head.

“What is it?”

He wants to reach up and find out what it is, but he’ll to do that he’ll have to let go of Hinata. So he stays put, gazing up at Hinata expectantly.

“I have a mirror inside,” Hinata tells him, eyebrow arched.

“Fuck off,” Kageyama cracks a tiny smile.

He loses his breath when Hinata ignores his words, when Hinata leans forward and ghosts his soft, amaranth lips of Kageyama’s. He frames Kageyama’s face with the palms of his hands, and never has Kageyama seen anything so absolutely breathtaking. He’s never really had time for anything except one night stands, and he sure as hell hasn’t really ever been in love before. 

But he’s heard what it feels like to be in love. You know, the ‘butterflies in stomach’ cliche or that dumbass one where ‘a thousand choirs of angels sing’. But this time, there are no butterflies, there are no angels. There are only dinosaurs in Kageyama’s stomach, shaking up everything he’s ever thought of and taking apart his way of life piece by piece, and it seems like everything he’s ever done flashes before his eyes in the split-second before their lips touch.

Hinata’s lips are soft, and when his nose is bumping ever so gently against Kageyama’s and both of their breaths hitch and the sun and moon seem to crumble to dust, that’s when Kageyama feels himself sinking. And yes, he realizes, that _yes,_ there is a good kind of gross, and he’s basking in the glow of it in this very moment. Because he’s heard every homophobic word, every single slur, but fucking _christ,_ if having Hinata’s warm, cautious lips on his is a sin, then he’ll gladly rot.

Hinata whimpers are muffled, and he’s winding his arms around Kageyama’s neck, only trying to pull him closer, and if this is a dream, Kageyama would do anything other than wake up. It has to be a dream, though, right? Nothing ever good has really come to Kageyama, so where the hell has Hinata been all his life?

“Tobio,” Hinata gasps.

Hinata remembers his name.

Hinata remembers his _name._

“Tobio, please-”

And Kageyama’s done, he’s so fucking done with holding back. He gives every kiss everything that he has, and he doesn’t stop until Hinata, no - _Shouyou_ \- is practically clutching onto him, melting in his arms, hanging onto his every sound and movement. The two of them melt into the kiss, impatient and greedily gasping through their mouths when they pull apart for only a heartbeat. Shouyou's kisses are great, like _really_ fucking great.

But after a few moments, Kageyama reluctantly pulls away. He rests his forehead against Shouyou’s, suddenly weak.

“Shouyou,” he murmurs.

He’s sinking, and he can feel it with every breath he takes.

***

On his way outside, Kageyama takes the item off of his head.

It’s one of those cheap crowns, and really, did Shouyou have it the entire time?

He wants to throw it on the ground, stomp on it like Shouyou does to his cigarettes, but he can’t find it in himself to do it. So instead he places it back on top of his head, muttering curses under his breath as his cheeks heat up and images of Shouyou’s happy smile fill the emptiness in his mind and heart.

Now he’s far beneath the ocean, gazing up through the water and into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long chapter to make up for my absence + kagehina kiss hope ur happy <3


	6. Chapter 6

i want to add another chapter really bad  
but if anyone still wants to read this dumb thing  
pls let me know  
without any inspiration i will probably end this thing right here  
im really sorry <3

UPDATE :

OH MY GOD U GUYS I WASNT EXPECTING ANYONE TO ANSWER  
IM SURPRISED U ALL ARE STILL HERE  
AND SHOUTOUT TO THE FRIEND THAT DREW SOME STUFF  
ILY YOU ALL  
THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS SO NICE!!!  
& do not worry i will be back back w more ;)


	7. Cloudless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch
> 
> i bet u thought you'd seen the last of me

Hinata’s breakfast contains of an omelet and a glass of water.

It’s really all he has time for, seeing as he’d slept in a little late. His shop would be closing at the end of the day, as the days drew nearer to the holidays, and it would remain closed for a full week. He would have chosen a buffet breakfast over anything, but he’d rushed through his morning in a groggy haze, rubbing at his eyes occasionally. He almost fell asleep while making his omelet, and blamed the frying pan when his food was nearly burnt.

He would miss the shop while he was away.

Most of the well-known businesses were closing over the weekend for the holidays. His was no exception, but as he shrugged on his clothes, he pondered what he would do for the time away from the place.

He was at his shop so much that he’d grown apart from the feeling of being home, being able to laze around and do whatever he wanted. Sure, he missed the feeling. But he loved every second he was at that place, surrounded by the smell of proud, beautiful flowers. Maybe he had a tiny obsession with them. He liked them, adored them, _grew up with them._ He was used to tending to them and planting new ones, and he was also used to disposing of the ones who couldn’t go on any longer.

If it was up to him, he wouldn’t leave his spot from behind the counter throughout the entire week.

And it wasn’t like there were rules about closing-- but he celebrated the holiday too, and oh, what would his mother think if she saw her son disrespecting the family traditions? But he shoved his feelings aside and practiced smiling. He had the entire day to work in his shop, and although the thought of leaving it weighed heavy in his heart, the thought of being there for even a second had happiness bubbling up inside of him. He barely paid any attention to the cars as he crossed the streets. His work was far away enough, and it probably would’ve been easier if he drove to work instead of walking. But he liked to walk, enjoyed the peace and quiet it gave him in the early morning.

He breathed each breath he took in deeply.

He hummed along with the few birds that chirped in the afterglow of dawn. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket when they got too cold, and snuck them back out when he wanted another touch from the slowly-chilling air. It was fairly quiet as he walked down the streets of town, the only real sound audible being the soft rhythm of wheels against asphalt, and Hinata’s own breathing.

When he finally arrived to the small store he’d always called his own, squashed between two taller, newer ones, he happily unlocked the door and smiled at the familiar bell that jingled at the movement. Pale sunlight trickled through the windows, revealing the tiny specks of dust that floated around in the air. Hinata smiled in the dimness of the room, then glanced at his apron, resting on one of the wooden knob nearby the door. He rubs his hands together, and switches the lights on.

 

 

 

 

 

**__________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

Hinata’s phone was perched between his shoulder and cheek. He'd tried ushering the rest of his customers, a short woman with chubby cheeks and a blonde bob-cut and her hyperactive son, and a middle-aged man with too-big glasses, out of his shop multiple times. But none of his attempts worked, and he was getting more aggravated by the moment. One of his distant customers, who was currently screaming at him in German from who-knows which country, wanted to order just the stems of the flowers.

“I can get flower _seeds_ ma’am. They might take a few days to get there, and a few weeks to grow, but--”

“ _Va te faire foutre!_ ,” she hollered back, and Hinata realized that she was speaking in French, “I besoin des _fleurs!_ ”

Hinata caught the last of her words easily. They clearly sounded similar. He sighed in exasperation, and was ready to begin reasoning with her again when the blonde woman’s son burst into tears and angrily grabbed a fresh bouquet of one of the begonias and threw it to the floor. Hinata startled, fighting down the frustration that seeped into his bones. It was aggravating sure-- there were many times when he had plenty of customers, but even with only three, these ones were particularly difficult. Halfway into the day people had begun pouring into his shop, and he’d struggled to keep up with all the orders and impatience.

These specific three were getting hard to deal with, especially with the angry French woman on the line.

The blonde woman sighed and gave him a sharp glare, as if it was _Hinata’s_ fault that her adolescent son had disrespected the flowers, and quickly told him to pick it up and put it back.

“ _Est-ce que tu m'écoutes?_ ,” the French woman snapped.

Hinata grumbled to himself, placing his fingertips upon his forehead and willing himself to calm down. He glanced out the large window and to the sky, noticing that the sun was slowly sinking behind the taller buildings on the other side of the street.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Hinata forced out, “But you’ll have to call back another time. My shop is currently closed.”

“ _Idiot!_ Tu ferais mieux de me chercher--”

Hinata nearly slammed his thumb down on the ‘end call’ button.

He knew the guilt would settle in later. But he checked the time on his phone, which was nearly 7:30, and groaned when he realized that it was already half an hour past closing time. He turned back to his customers. The mother, who was now shaking her finger at the young boy, who was happily stuffing, and Hinata winces at this, the _flower petals_ of his favored begonias into his own mouth.

He couldn’t deal with these crazy people, not right now.

“Excuse me,” he piped up, drumming his fingertips on the edge of the counter. All three of them turned to him, expressionless and waiting. Hinata only narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

“It’s past closing time,” he breathed. “I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”

The blonde woman shook her head stubbornly while her son continued to eat the flower petals.

“I’m not leavin’ til you get me what I paid for,” she demanded, then added a _tsk._

“I told you, we don’t sell the flytraps here.”

Hinata’s patience was thinning.

“Then get some!,” she retorted.

Hinata swallowed thickly.

“Ma’am, I said that you need to leave. Your son has already caused damage here, and if you don’t go _right now,_ I’m going to charge you for it.”

The woman’s eyes widen.

She eyes Hinata doubtfully, searching for any hint of resistance. She finds none. She scoffs and grabs her son’s hand just as he’s about to place another petal on his tongue, gives Hinata one good, last glare, and drags the child out of the store. The middle-aged man uncertainly follows suit, shrinking away from the flames in Hinata’s bright eyes.

As soon as they’re all out of sight and the door closes, Hinata’s shoulders slump. Relief washes over him and the stiffness in his bones eases away.

He brushes his fingers through his hair, letting his eyes close as he relaxes in the silence. He remembers that this will be his last day at the shop for a while. Although he does love helping people, and more than anything, he loves producing his flowers, he’d have to admit that the day was exhausting. He loathed the people who came in and treated his shop like some cheap convenience store, when Hinata thought that it could be one of the most prized in the district.

Especially the French woman-- Hinata’s eyes snapped open, and in his head he was already changing his number.

Once his breathing steadied, he made his way to the aisle where the petal-eating son had been.

The pink little items are scattered among the floor. Hinata sinks to his knees and begins picking them up. One after another falls into his palm, and piling up slowly in a pink heap, and when he collects all of them, he stands up. Just as he grabs the bouquet and tilts it so that the petals can fall in, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Hurriedly he dumps the petals and puts the bouquet back, before reaching into his pocket and snatching the phone out. He answers and displays the most normal tone he can manage.

“Listen, I said that my shop is _closed._ And it will stay closed for another week. I don’t even understand why you can’t just order the damn flowers and cut the stems yourself. If you call again, I will personally wrap your precious stems in tin-foil, buy a first-class ticket to France, and shove those damn stems up your ass. _Do not_ call this number again.”

Hinata tries not to seethe and break his phone screen when he goes to end the call, but a muffled snort at the other end of the line has his entire body frozen. It sounds nowhere near a woman’s snort.

Hesitantly, he glances down, and his jaw drops when he registers the phone number.

“Bad day at work, huh?”

“H-holy _shit,_ ” Hinata sputters, his entire face heating up, “I’m so s-sorry, Suga.”

Sugawara laughs, the sound a little staticky.

“It’s alright, Shouyou. Are your customers that bad?”

Hinata groans, “You won’t _believe._ ”

And then, as Suga gives another light snort, Hinata perks up. He shifts the phone to his other hand and walks back to behind the counter after noticing that the blonde woman’s son had found some of the yellow flowers, and had smashed them into the linoleum floor to use as crayons.

“How was the wedding?,” Hinata asks as he grabs a cloth from one of the drawers below the counter.

“That’s, um,” Suga begins, “--actually what I called you to talk about.”

Hinata smiles, despite the fact that his friend can’t see. He travels to the small room in the back of the store, where the restroom is, and moves the cloth in his hand so that it’s under the cold stream of water.

“I bet they had a lot of cake, huh? You said once that baking runs in your family,” Hinata continues, “Oh, and you promised to send me pictures!”

“Shouyou--”

Hinata turns off the water and walks back into the store, back to where the marks of yellow are upon the floor, “What type of music did they play? Ooh, did they have a famous band--”

“Shouyou!”

Hinata stops.

Silence is all he can hear, not even Suga’s breathing. Hinata pulls the phone away from his ear, afraid that his friend had hung up on him-- he hadn’t been that desperate for answers, had he?

He frowns when he sees that the call is still going.

“Suga?,” he asks hesitantly.

“The wedding,” Suga murmurs, before swallowing thickly, “Didn’t work out.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**__________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hinata perches on the edge of his seat. The train was nearly full, the only buzzing off life being a whining baby that clutched onto its mother. Hinata’s heart was still weighed down, even more than before. The dimness of Suga’s voice echoed in his mind. Suga was always there for everyone, or at least always tried to be. He was a rock. He was strong and fun to stay up and talk to all night long.

It never really occurred to Hinata that Suga could feel sad, too.

_“What….do you mean?,” Hinata questioned, his voice quiet._

_Suga picked his words._

_“I should have known, really,” and Hinata felt an ache when his friend’s voice cracked, “I saw all the signs."_

_Hinata stayed silent. His mind began conjuring up explanations-- signs for what? But he waited for Suga to continue. The line stayed quiet and Shouyou couldn’t find the strength in himself to move, afraid that the silence would crack and Suga would change his mind and hang up._

_“He was cheating,” Suga finally said._

The train started to move. The wheels screeched and the baby wailed. It wasn’t his pain, Hinata knew, but he could hear the hurt in Suga’s voice when he spoke. Hinata had always taken pain to heart. When his mother lost her job, he felt hurt, and he did everything he could for her. When his grandmother couldn’t stop forgetting things, he tried to help her remember.

_“He was cheating,” Suga repeated. “I saw something pink on his neck when he came home last month. He started living with us as soon as he got engaged to my sister, and when he came home, his hair was messy and he didn’t even have his shirt on right.”_

_Hinata needed to say something. But his tongue was dry._

_“And, the napkin--”_

Someone took a seat next to Hinata. Hinata, despite the nagging urge to scoot away from them, sat up a little straight and kept his eyes on the ground. 

_What napkin, Hinata wanted to ask._

_“The napkin,” Suga choked out, “I-it had the woman’s phone number on it. It said ‘call again if you want to have another fun time.’ I didn’t want Yumako to see it, so I thought I’d helped her. I put it in her husband’s drawer. I didn’t want her to see it because I thought it would be better, I thought she’d be happier if she didn’t k-know.”_

_Hinata felt his eyes burn._

At the corner of his eyes, he catches a glimpse of red. Bright red. He notices pale hands, thumbs twitching against the buttons--

_“She hasn’t come out of her room,” Suga whimpers, the tears creeping in his voice._

The train jerks forward. Hinata can’t stop his eyes from widening, can’t tear his gaze away from the person next to him. For a fact, he knows, that there’s no way this person can be here. He lives on the other side of the city. They haven’t seen each other since they were all about bruises and Saturday morning kids’ shows, digging in Shouyou’s backyard garden and staying up until eight.

And there’s no way this person can be wearing that jacket.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**__________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (✌ﾟ∀ﾟ)


	8. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im the only one home and there are loud fireworks going on outside
> 
> its honestly really scary...

“I thought you’d never look over here,” the male says with a hint of a smile. “It’s been a long time, Shouyou.”

Hinata nearly gasps. All the air he had inside his lungs leaves him in one involuntarily breath, shocking the daylights out of him. On one hand, he was surprised. The feeling of it flooded and made every single one of his nerves short-circuit, so he was left gaping like a fish. The other side of him was nearly vibrating with happiness-- he was ready to fall out of his seat. His throat swelled with fond screams, but he held them back as a huge grin crept onto his lips.

“ _Kenma!_ ,” he shouts, leaping over despite the fact that the train took an unsteady curve, causing him to barrel into the half-blonde.

Kenma quietly tried to push Hinata away, shoving at his face and murmuring something about his breath.

“What are you doing here?,” Hinata asks instantly, once his composure had returned. His sadness for the moment, since hearing the news and finding Sugawara’s demeanor, had left him feeling empty. The entire walk to the train felt terrible-- even though it was a fairly short distance, an ache had settled into his gut, yet he had immediately began listing off the things he could do to help his friend feel better.

“I’m just in town for the week,” Kenma states flatly, but Hinata’s already sparkling.

“This is _great_ ,” Hinata chirped, “We’ll be able to catch up! You’ve never been to this city, have you? There are some great restaurants I could show you--”

“I’m not here to ‘catch up’,” Kenma replied, still tapping away at his game.

Hinata practically deflated.

“You’re not?”

Kenma shook his head, “I said, I’m only here for the week. There’s a festival happening next Wednesday, just west of us.”

“That’s cool,” Hinata added, “Wait, but where will you stay?”

Kenma glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow.

“You can stay at my place,” Hinata brightened, “I don’t have two rooms, but you can sleep in my bed,” and already he was stumbling over his words, “I’ll just have to clean my room up a little. I’ll take the couch, and you can stay there as long as you want--”

“Thank you,” Kenma chuckled lightly, “But I’m staying at Kuroo’s.”

Hinata turned to him, slightly frowning.

“Who’s Kuroo?”

Kenma ignored him for a few seconds. He hurriedly tapped on his phone, and as Hinata leaned forward and peered at the phone screen, he saw that Kenma was controlling a tiny, colorful cat that jumped over bumps in the road and and avoided the clouds in the sky. Kenma groaned when his character knocked into one of the bumps, and threw his head back in irritation. Then he tore his gaze away from the phone and looked back at Hinata.

“A friend,” he murmurs.

Hinata narrows his eyes playfully, “Are you _sure,_ Kenma?”

The edges of Kenma’s lips flicker up briefly.

“I’m pretty sure,” Kenma responds, “Anyway, where exactly are you going? When you left, you said that you were going to live in Shimao. That’s in the other direction.”

Hinata nods.

“I know. I’m going to see my friend-- Suga.”

Kenma shut off his phone, interested.

“Alright,” he muses, “I told you about Kuroo. So tell me about Suga.”

Hinata sighs. He clasps his hands together on his lap.

“First of all, you didn’t tell me _anything_ about Kuroo,” he points out. “He’s feeling really upset right now, and I wanted to go over to try and help him.”

Kenma hums. He waits patiently for his friend to continue, and when Hinata doesn’t make any move to talk again, he gives his own input.

“You’re as naive as always, you know?”

Hinata turns to Kenma and frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, that maybe he doesn’t want to see you,” Kenma begins, and when Hinata sits up and makes a noise of protest, Kenma holds his hand up. “Hear me out, okay? You’re always rushing into things without contemplating the feelings of your friends. Maybe Suga wants to be alone.”

“I don’t understand that,” Hinata whines, “I can’t get how people want to be alone.”

Kenma fights a smile, and gently brushes a strand of hair behind his ear.

“He could need some time to think things over by himself. Sometimes people need to think about things by themselves, without any help-- it’s sort of how they learn.”

“ _God,_ Kenma,” Hinata snorts, “You sound like my mom.”

The train gives another sharp jerk and Kenma’s fingers protectively clutch onto his phone to keep it from flying out of his hands. Lights flash outside of the train, and all of the passengers get a brief glimpse of the tunnel that they’re traveling through. Kenma taps his phone awake and Hinata draws in a breath, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin against them.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Kenma begins, “How’s your life going?”

Hinata smiled, opening his mouth to tell the other male that he doesn’t mind at all. But his smile faltered, and he started to wonder how his life really was going. It was absolutely chaos-- but he knew he’d never have a single chance of hearing the end of it if he told Kenma that. Although Kenma was pretty laid-back, his exterior could fool anyone for boredom, but he did always seem to care and always asked Hinata if he was okay, and how he was doing. And Hinata just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his childhood friend was _here_ , right beside him, when he would have been so many miles away, probably asleep by now-- or maybe not.

Hinata peeked an eye towards Kenma, and felt no surprise when he saw that Kenma was back to tapping on his phone.

So he opted for the best excuse, without giving too much information away.

“It’s falling off track, you could say,” he half-whispered, “Everything’s pretty much alright. The shop is doing okay and I think I might be making a little more money than usual.”

Kenma gives a small victory smile before he dips his tongue along his full lips and narrows his eyes at the phone screen, thumbs tapping twice as fast, focus heightening.

“What do you mean, ‘ _falling off track_ ’?,” Kenma questions.

Hinata segues, scooting closer and trying to look at the screen again. He watches in awe as Kenma swipes left and right, little red jellybean-shaped things and green squares line up before disappearing.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hinata responds. And then it hits him. He leans back, drinking in another good, long look at his friend. And it hits him _hard._ He has to suck in a breath when he remembers what had shocked him so much in the first place. All humor suddenly gone, he stares intently at the half-blonde, waiting for an answer. When Kenma apparently passes the level and another smile flits on his lips, his dark eyes flicker up to Hinata, and he pauses the game.

“What’s wrong?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**______________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The male stuffs his hands inside of his pockets. The pale moonlight filters over the white letters imprinted on the back of his jacket, the same white that drifts up into the night sky from the drug between his thin lips. He’s a little tall and looks far too suspicious with the whole greaser thing he’s got going on-- some of the people who still haven’t made it home skitter around him and give him disdainful glances.

He pays them no attention and breathes in the nicotine. He’s become far too good at ignoring over the past years, although he won’t step down from an obvious challenge-- one that demands he proves his worth. His sleek phone is cold against his fingertips in his pocket, shaking insistently. He scoffs, near disgusted with the persistence of the man on the other line-- he’d had far too many texts, voicemails, and calls from this guy, ones that filled up his phone and had taken forever for him to delete.

Another train passed by. It reeked of gasoline. He winced at the sound it made when it passed by, digging his fingernails into the fabric of his jacket.

He could be at home-- and he winced as hard as he did before when he realized how much of a sap he had become when his next thought hit him-- lying beside his asleep lover and tracing the freckles on his stomach.

Yet he was here-- the fucking _king_ , had asked him to be here. It was cold and way far away from home and Tsukishima shivered with every breath he took. Of course, he understood why Kageyama would ask him to go. He was practically infatuated with the shortstack florist, checking his phone every free chance he got, and looking like someone had kicked him (actually, that wasn’t the right phrase. If someone had kicked him he’d look undeniably _murderous_ ), rephrase : looking extremely upset when he realized that his new puppy-love interest hadn’t sent him anything. Tsukishima didn’t blame him-- he wouldn’t want to send the king anything either.

But, Tsukishima mused as he took another drag, that he’d do the same for Yamaguchi. He would call Kageyama out in the middle of the night and make him drive to an entirely other city and wait in the cold for the train that Yamaguchi was on, if only to ensure that he was safe.

That he hadn’t been in contact with _them._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**_____________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Kenma….” Hinata worried, biting down on his bottom lip a little, “What’s with the jacket?”

Kenma frowned. He turned and looked down at his clothes, the red coloring resulting in wide eyes. He shivered involuntarily, fingers twitching at the hems of his sleeves. An explosion of thoughts began to rush through him-- Hinata couldn’t know the name. Hinata was a florist for fuck’s sake, all he did was wake up and go to work and be happy 24/7, all while wondering at the smallest things in life like the shapes of clouds and small caterpillars on the sidewalk. He couldn’t know the name, couldn’t have seen it.

Hinata was pretty much _pure._ Or maybe he was marvelling at the coloring. It was pretty bold and Hinata liked bold things, but the back of Kenma’s mind was screaming at him that that wasn’t the reason at all. Besides, they did a pretty good job of hiding themselves, and they were notorious, but surely a downtown _florist_ wouldn’t get involved in the lifestyle of _gangs_ \--

“Kenma,” Hinata demanded, eyes no longer lit up. Kenma’s mind whirred. Something coiled in the pit of his stomach, and he felt terrible, like he was going to be sick, “Why do you have a Nekoma jacket on?”

Now he was definitely going to be sick.

“Hinata...how-- how do you know about them?”

A female voice cut through the silence in a robotic tone, “ _Maori prefecture two miles away. Please remember to gather your belongings, and wake those who are asleep. Have a safe night, and do not forget to recommend Nishijori express to your friends and family!_ ”

Hinata’s gaze wavered.

“Are you a part of them?,” he asked, voice quiet. His expression was unreadable and he was unlike any other time Kenma had seen him. He looked different, more jaded, more unsure.

“I…” Kenma murmured. His screen flashed brightly with another opportunity, but Kenma completely ignored it. He didn’t know how Hinata would take it. He was...he could be considered a part of it, yet he wasn’t exactly involved wholly….

“No,” Kenma swallowed, “Not exactly.”

“Then, do you hurt people?”

 _Not directly_.

“No,” Kenma answered again.

Hinata peered at him, looking for a sign that would lead him to believe that Kenma wasn’t telling the truth. When he didn’t find one, he visibly relaxed. His whole body sagged and his eyes had life back in them. Kenma didn’t know what he felt, maybe slight contempt for being looked at by his own friend as if they’d never even known each other, as if Kenma wasn’t worthy of trust because of his jacket. Oh, how would Hinata react if he knew what Kenma was really a part of?

But it was all washed away when Hinata moved closer, offering a reassuring smile.

But Kenma’s interest was still piqued.

“But how do you know Nekoma?”

Hinata froze somewhat. He should have kept his mouth shut and his eyes averted. This is what he’d wanted to avoid. He thought maybe, his good karma of dealing with an old lady crossing the street, and not lashing out at the petal-eating kid, would pay off and he could have a night in peace. Even better, with his friend. But now he had to lead a conversation about _him_ , but oh, how would he explain it?

‘I met this tall guy at a party and he practically kidnapped me and took me to his home on a motorcycle and then we went to Burger King and he let me wear his shirt, and I also stole some pancakes of his, but he got me back by kissing me and I still don’t know how to feel about him.’

And that’s basically summing up the past few days.

The nerves set Hinata on edge. Kenma’s eyes watch his every move, from the twitch of his frown to the firm grip Hinata’s hands have on the seat.

“They’re…,” he sifted for words, “Pretty well-known around here.”

“Oh?,” Kenma quirked an eyebrow.

Hinata nodded, “I’ve seen they’re jackets a few times.”

Kenma looked a little more surprised, “Where?”

“First, tell me why you’re wearing the jacket.”

Kenma’s throat went dry.

He half-heartedly willed the doors to open, and that same voice to announce that they had arrived, but the train had a few more minutes before it arrived where Hinata wanted to go. And Kenma couldn’t keep his silence for that much time, nor could he ignore Hinata’s interest or pretend he hadn’t heard him. Deep inside, Kenma knew that Hinata deserved to know.

So Kenma slipped his phone back into Nekoma’s jacket quietly and gave his whole attention to the orange-haired male, and folded his now-clammy hands together. He hadn’t been this nervous in a while, and even being nervous in this situation sounded stupid to him. It was just a question-- a question that had his stomach churning and his mind almost blank.

“Kuroo gave it to me.”

“Kuroo,” Hinata muttered the name under his breath and almost snapped his fingers when it clicked, “So...he’s in Nekoma? Why do you hang out with him? Why did he give it to you?”

Kenma meddled with his sleeves.

“He’s the leader,” Kenma admitted softly, “And he said it would protect me.”

_If I wore it, it’s name would let everyone know that they shouldn’t get involved._

Although the response only intrigued Hinata more, it didn’t go unnoticed by him that Kenma had dodged his second question.

“Kenma, why do you--”

“ _Announcing the arrival of Nishijori express to the Maori prefecture! When the subway pulls to a stop, please exit the vehicle in a calm manner_ …”

“Why do you hang out with him?,” Hinata repeated, raising his voice a little louder so that Kenma could hear him. The baby from before broke out in sobs and the mother glared at Hinata, rising up from her seat just as the doors slid open. This was Hinata’s stop, although Kenma’s would only be a little farther away. Yet Hinata made no move to get up.

“Shouyou,” Kenma hissed as half of the people, which were only a few, got up too.

“Tell me why,” Hinata demanded.

“ _Shouyou_ ,” Kenma tried again, “The doors are going to _close._ ”

“I’m not leaving until you--”

“Shrimp!”

Both Kenma and Hinata tore their gazes away and in panic, looked towards the exit doors. Out in the night was Tsukishima, looking bored as ever and smoking. He nodded briefly and Kenma breathed deeply when he saw the dark jacket he was clothed in, the signature design of _Karasuno._ His heart stammered while Hinata muttered a quick goodbye, looking confused as ever.

“Wait, Shouyou!,” Kenma shouted, before quickly snatching a pen up out of his pocket and hurriedly scribbling his number on Hinata’s palm before the door closed.

“Text me when you get home.”

Hinata nodded and gave a tight smile, having no time to happily hug Kenma goodbye, and jumped out just a second before the doors began to slide closed. The train began moving even before they did, and Kenma almost smiled when Hinata waved almost violently and shouted goodbyes.

Of course, Kenma waved back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**____________________________**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tsukishima breathed deep as the doors closed. Hinata stayed rooted in the spot, still waving as the car that his friend was in grew farther and farther away. Eventually, the speed of his waves faded away and it looked more like he wasn’t sure what to do with his own hand, shaking it slowly and limply. Eventually he stopped, and waited a good few seconds while staring, as if thinking that the train would come back.

It didn’t and when he realized that, he turned towards Tsukishima. He squinted his bright eyes at the blonde scornfully.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Tsukishima made a show of pressing the cigarette to his lips and drinking it in, eyes half-lidded with dark circles underneath them, almost hidden by his glasses. He tapped his foot impatiently and his face was flustered from the cold. Hinata wondered how long he’d been out here, and almost punched himself when he felt an ache of sympathy for the taller male.

“Shut up, you’re giving me a headache.”

Tsukishima rubbed his forehead as if it actually hurt, before walking away. Hinata stared at him as he made his way, a little slowly, away from him and down the pavement. He had no idea what to do, and he was at a total loss. Tsukishima made no move to answer Hinata’s question or turn back, and looked like he was only leaving from a talk with a friend. His body was no longer straight and his head held a little irritatingly high, Hinata noted, but it was slumped and his shoulders sagged, and well...he looked _high._

So Hinata did what he thought was correct, chased after him, and asked him if he was high.

“I’m going to throw you onto the tracks and wait until the next train arrives,” Kei muttered, but with a lack of venom, as if he was talking to himself.

“Will you at least answer my question?,” Hinata snapped back.

“I’m here because I was asked to be,” Tsukishima retorts.

Hinata scowled when the blonde gave no further explanation.

“Where are we going?,” He tries again.

“We’re going back to Shimao, you shithead.”

 _Sheesh,_ Hinata thought, _something’s got him pissed._

“You mean we’re gonna walk all the way back?,” Hinata couldn't stop himself from asking, voice hitching with disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Kei spit out, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Yeah, we’re gonna _walk_ five miles back to that fucking town in the middle of the night.”

“What’s up your ass?,” Hinata muttered.

“I didn’t ask to have to come out here,” Tsukishima doesn’t miss a beat, “Your fucking boyfriend couldn’t get his lazy ass up and take some initiative, and of course-- _I’m_ the guy who has to carry out with his dirty work. If anything I would’ve stayed home and let you find your own way home.”

“You’re a dick,” Hinata retorts. “And you mean Kageyama? He’s not my _boyfriend_ ,” Hinata stopped to keep his voice from growing small, “--you overgrown beanstalk. And...he told you to come for me? How did he even know where I was?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Kei says under his breath as he takes the very last wisps of life from his cigarette, “He’s hellbent on keeping you safe. He didn’t know where you were. _I_ did.”

Hinata ignored his first words with a flush, and ask, “How?”

“I would say Kenma texted me,” and Hinata wanted to demand how the hell Tsukishima knew Kenma’s number, “But that’d be a lie. Kenma texted a friend to text me and tell me where you were.”

“Who’s the friend?,” Hinata asked as he watched Tsukishima flick the cigarette out of his hand and crushed it beneath his shoes.

“Nobody of your concern.”

The lights of the city drew nearer. The buildings stood more pronounced against the dim sky, and there were multiple signs for the subway stations that said it was beginning to travel underground. They passed these signs in a tensed silence, both of them refusing to speak a word, until Kei became so annoyed by the quiet that he snapped.

“His name is Kuroo,” he sighed, already itching for another cigarette. He shoved his hands back into his pockets and practically seethed when he found only emptiness.

“What?,” Hinata spun to face him, but the name and the question from before registered, and he sputtered out a slightly muffled ‘ _oh._ ’

“I can’t tell you much,” Tsukishima said, “But Kageyama told me to wait for you near the station for Maori. Said that Seijou will be in Shimao soon.”

Hinata shuddered. The cold took him in and with a huff, he tried to burrow deeper into his jacket, which didn’t do much to protect him from the warmth. It wasn’t that far into winter, but the temperature was already dropping quickly. He rolled the name around in his mind, even whispering it aloud twice. He felt a frown when he realized that he had no idea who or what Seijou was, or why they would be in Shimao soon, so he did the most reasonable, and first thing that came to his mind.

“Why is that bad?,” he asked.

Kei almost snorted.

“‘Cus where Seijou goes, Nekoma follows.”

 


	9. what the hell is this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bru h

i have been putting this off i cant believe all of u people actually want to read this o h m y g o

update :  
ok so let me rephrase this im completely shocked that you all want to read this. i havent even gotten around to updating this and its almost been like 30 days since the last chapter,,, and this whole thing just started out as a dumb idea based off the florist/tattoo artist and i have an idea for that, which might be coming up in later chapters and im tryna make this thing as cool as i can. but now seeing that you all of you wONDERFUL people actually like this (or, can tolerate it lmao) just makes me so happy tbh and this is going on longer than i thought it would. 

lastly, of course i read all of your comments!! i get all fuzzy inside when you say something and go d this does not deserve as much kudos as it has. this is complete trash and i,,,, i dont reply because id just say some dumb stuff (me trying to convey my excitement with capslock and an overuse of the word omg). i appreciate all of you so much i could seriously cry,, im so honored and fUCKIN THERES NO OTHER SYNONYM I CAN THINK OF FOR HAPPY BUT THANK YOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also yes i caught up w the manga here i come


	10. Chapter 10

srry for all these trash update chapters u guys>> what i said last time was that id like to plan on rewriting this fic so its not so bad but i deleted the chapter bcos i was doubting my effort to do that...but going back & seeing all ur guys sweet comments makes me more detrmnd....just let me kno whether i should rewrite it or if its fine the way it is thnks<3 ε-(´・｀)


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